


A Study in Love

by philaetos



Series: Studies [2]
Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, and simon too, baz and simon are already a couple!!!, because COME ON that’s hot, but simon has ebb you know, daphne basically adopts him, don’t expect the tags to be helpful i’m terrible at tagging, for now, here i come again with my absolute love and adoration for daphne, malcolm is traumatized, she won’t be here much either, simon’s magic is still just as fucked up, sorry i didn’t include ebb in the previous story, the boys get kinky, the mage is not here but he’s mentioned and he SUCKS, they are happy, watch me give baz the good parental figure he needs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philaetos/pseuds/philaetos
Summary: More problems are to come. But at least they’re together.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Studies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010952
Comments: 230
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of a series so make sure you’ve read the first! 
> 
> If you’ve read the first part (which was titled Rosebud Boy but was changed to A Study in Trust because I wanted my titles to match) welcome back! Yes, I know I’m posting this much too early considering I finished the first part literally yesterday BUT I crave validation from others to feel some sense of worth so here I am (just kidding) (or not?)
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> I hope you will like this second part, and I’d like to say that there will most likely have a third and possibly fourth part because I have no impulse control. That just depends on whether or not my brain is going to decide to let me down along the way.  
> Also, this part and the possible next ones will be shorter than the first one, I really can’t see how I could make them longer, but who knows? Certainly not me
> 
> Finally, for the updates, I’ll try my best to update daily, but contrary to with the first part I have no chapter written in advance so I’m not sure I could, I may only post once every two days, or three days if school really gets intense but that shouldn’t happen
> 
> This is way too long. Let’s get to the story now. Enjoy!

**Simon**

After we left the restaurant -where Baz ate in front of me without hiding his mouth with his hand, I’m so proud of him- we went to his aunt’s. Not what I expected to be doing this afternoon, but I went along with it. On top of that, he told me to wait in the car, which is really weird, but once again, I’ve learnt not to question the things Baz does. Usually, he has good reasons even though they don’t always make sense to me.

At least, he was merciful enough to give me his phone, to keep myself entertained while he does whatever it is he’s doing with his aunt. I’m contemplating calling Penny. I really don’t want to be talking about my audience with the Coven so soon after it, but I’ve got nothing better to do now and once it’s done, I won’t have to talk about it again, not to her anyway, and it’s easier to talk to Baz because he doesn’t constantly looks at me like he’s irritated I’m not saying more. I don’t blame Penny for being curious, I know that’s just the way she is, she hates not knowing things, but it’s frustrating that she can’t even pretend to hide how curious she is.

Eventually, after five solid minutes of debating with myself, I decide to call her. If she starts questioning me too much about things I don’t want to say, I could always say Baz is coming back and I need to go, after all. She can’t check whether or not it’s true.

I look through Baz’s contacts until I see “Bunce”, and I press the button to call her. When I raise the phone to my ear, I have to wait for a couple of ‘beep’s, so much so that I think she’s not going to answer, before she picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Pen. It’s Simon. I called you, you know, to tell you how it went with the Coven.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with Basil? I didn’t come just so that you two could hang out,” she tells me, sounding a bit confused. I can almost see her frowning on the other side of the line.

“Yeah, that was very nice of you, but, uh, right now Baz is visiting his aunt for some reason so I’m waiting for him in the car.”

“So you thought, why not call Penny not to die of boredom.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” I laugh. “Do you wanna know how it went or no?”

“You know I do.”

So I tell her. At first she doesn’t say anything, but when I reach the part where I gave the Coven one of the Mage’s notebooks, she interrupts.

“Wait, how did you do that? You didn’t have one of those with you when I walked you to the parking lot.”

“I did, actually. Hidden under my clothes. Baz’s idea. I told him I wanted to take the notebook to my audience because I wanted to show the Coven members what the Mage had written about his mum and he told me the best way to do that without too much trouble was to hide it on me and get it out at the right time. So that’s what I did.”

“And the Coven just accepted that?” she asks, sounding astonished. They didn’t tell you off for bringing something in like that?”

She can’t see me, but I shrug. “I think they were too shocked about what was written on it to really care about how it got to them so long as they could use it against him. You know better than I do how most of the World of Mages felt about Natasha Pitch and how they feel about the Mage.”

“I can’t believe you did this… But I’m not even sure what’s more unbelievable, that you’d do something as risky as _bringing an unauthorized object to the Coven while being questioned by them_ or that you’d do something against the Mage. No offense, but you’ve always defended him even when he showed times and times again that he wasn’t as good as you thought.”

I know, most of the time when Penny and I actually argued, it was because of the Mage. Because she thought I was too blind to his actions. I thought I wasn’t. But as always, I was wrong and Penny was right.

“I just… I didn’t even read most of his notebooks, but those I read… they were enough to see him for what he really was, and for me to realize that… that he just didn’t care about me.”

He still hurts as much to say it. More so, even, now that I know he’s my father.

My father… 

It makes me shiver.

All these years, I’ve dreamt of that, of having a parent that was still here, that was still alive, that I would know. Now I do and I wish I didn’t. Jesus, I even wished the Mage was my actual dad for so long. How fucking stupid that was.

I don’t want him to be my father.

I don’t want him to be _anything_ to me. Not anymore. 

“I’m sorry, Simon. I… I wish I had been wrong about that. I wish he did care about you the way you wanted him to.”

“Yeah, anyway. I don’t want to talk about that. It’s hard, but it’ll be fine. I don’t need him,” I say, with as much conviction as I can in my voice.

And it’s true. I don’t need him. I have other people who actually care, who care for me, for _Simon_ , not for the Chosen One. That’s what matters.

**…**

**Baz**

_I want to meet your bloke._

Fiona spent the last thirty minutes yelling, not necessarily at me, just _yelling_ , and yet those are the words that stun me the most.

I _don’t_ want Fiona to “meet my bloke”. She’ll terrify him. He’s already scared enough of my father. I don’t want him to feel completely unwelcome in my family. 

Especially now that he has stood against the Mage, in my mother’s favour nonetheless, exposing him for having caused her death. 

“Fiona…”

“It’s not up to debate,” she interrupts me. “Malcolm and _Daphne_ have met him, I want to meet him too. They shouldn’t even have met him before me in the first place.”

Here we go again.

Fiona loves saying that Daphne isn’t my mum, but I think that she forgets that she is not my mum either. 

“Aleister Crowley, Fiona he was at the manor, so yes, they met him before you. It’s not a big deal.”

She glares at me. I haven’t been impressed by her threatening looks in a long time. It’s hard to be impressed by my aunt after I’ve had to clean her vomit because she was too pissed to hold her wand without risking a catastrophe on _multiple_ occasions. The parts of my summers I spend with Fiona are rather… interesting since she decided that I was old enough for her to drink when I’m here.

“It is a big deal! It’s your first boyfriend! And it’s the bloody Chosen One! You should have called me the moment you two started fooling around,” she says, waving her half empty beer bottle at me.

There’s a 60% chance she’s going to wave it too violently and spill its content on herself.

“Well, I did not. And I’m _not_ making you meet him now. You’re going to be a bitch to him and he doesn’t need that today.”

She kicks me in the shin. “Don’t call me a bitch.”

“With all due respect aunt Fiona, you _are_ a bitch. Half of the stuff you say is mean for no reason. I don’t want Snow to have to put up with that.”

“Oh come on, I’ll behave. I just want to have a little chat. Tell him that if he breaks your heart I’ll break his bones, you know, that kind of stuff,” she tells me with a smirk, looking at her nails.

Crowley, this woman. I know that she’s my mother’s sister, but sometimes it feels like she’s mine. An annoying, protective big sister twice my age. 

I sigh. “Fine, I’ll go ask him. But if he doesn’t want to talk to you, I won’t force him. He’s had a tough day already.”

“Aw, look at you, such a caring little wife,” she says, reaching out over the table, probably trying to pinch my cheek, but her arm’s too short so she just ends up slapping my arm. I chase her hand away like she’s some kind of insect buzzing around me. “You gonna make him dinner when you go back to school?”

“It’s not because you don’t like this kind of stuff for yourself that you have to make fun of me for caring about my boyfriend, you know that?” I answer, rolling my eyes. “I’d _love_ to experience that kind of domesticity with Snow ; coming home to him and making dinner for us.”

She pretends to gag. “You’re a pathetic, romantic fool.”

“So what if I am?” I tell her as a smile as I stand from my chair. “Good bye, aunt Fi. Don’t torture Simon if he chooses to come up here.”

“I’ll try my best.”

**…**

**Simon**

I’ve just hung up with Penelope when Baz comes back. He’s frowning a little bit. 

“Baz?” I ask as he opens the door of the car. My door, not the one on the driver’s side. “What is it?”

“My aunt wants to talk to you. Do you want to go or not? It’s fine if you don’t I can just get back in the car and drive us somewhere else.”

So that’s why he looked worried. 

I’m worried too, now. I suppose that she wants to see me because he’s told her he’s dating me now, and I’m not sure I want to hear what Fiona Pitch has to say about that. That woman hates me. And she is, pardon my french, a total bitch. 

So really, I have no desire to go see her. But for some reason Mr Grimm doesn’t seem to hate me that much, so if I could get Baz’s aunt not to hate me either, that’d be cool and refusing to talk to her isn’t gonna help me do that at all. 

“I’m going,” I tell Baz.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. What’s she gonna do, curse me?”

“Possibly?,” he says very seriously.

That’s so comforting love, thank you so much.

“Well I take the risk then. Come on, move out of the way,” I say, tapping his thigh until he does move. 

“I’m staying down here, I’m pretty sure she wants to talk to you alone. Her flat is on the third floor, the door on the left. Here are the keys,” he says, tossing them at me. “The swipe card opens the front door, and the door of her flat is already open.”

I grab them, slipping them in my pocket just to be sure I won’t drop them on the way to the building. “You’ve got the key to your aunt’s place?”

“Yeah,” he says as he walks to the other side of the car. “I could explain my very particular relationship with my aunt once she’ll be done talking to you. Go now, don’t make her wait.”

That’s a good idea. 

I blow him a kiss, which makes him roll his eyes as a smile tugs at his lips, and then I’m on my way to the building I saw him enter earlier. 

That concept of using a card to open a door is so cool. 

There are stairs and a lift, but I don’t really trust those things, I’m too scared of getting stuck, so I go for the stairs. Always a safe choice. I climb them up until I’m on the third floor, and knock on the door on the left.

It takes a few seconds for Fiona Pitch to come and open the door, but when she does, it’s with a strange gleam in her eyes that scares me a bit. “Chosen One,” she says, sneering. 

I guess that’s who Baz learnt that from.

“Hello, Mrs Pitch.”

“Jesus, don’t call me that I’m not that old. Fiona is fine. Come in kid.” She turns around and waves at me to follow her as she says that.

It’s the first time I hear a mage swear like a Normal. It sounds strange in her mouth, foreign, like it doesn’t belong there. Is that how it sounds when I swear like a Normal? Or is that how it sounds when I swear like a mage?

I’m still not sure which one I am more.

Fiona sits around the table in her kitchen, and I sit on the chair in front of her. “Baz said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do.” She grabs the half empty bottle of beer that’s on the table and swallows some of it. “I’ve heard you were Baz’s boyfriend.”

I thought Baz’s eyes were grey because he was a vampire, the same way his skin is this pale, greyish colour since he was Turned. Now that Fiona Pitch’s eyes are boring into mine, I realize that it’s just genetic. Her eyes are almost the same colour as his, though a bit bluer. 

“I am, yes.”

“What are your intentions?” she asks, leaning over the table with her hands flat against it.

Crowley that woman is scary. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you dating him? He spent the past 7 years whining because you hated him, and suddenly, you’re sticking your tongue down his throat? So I want to know _why_ you’re dating him.”

“Because I love him? What else am I supposed to answer!”

“You _love_ him? That’s a big word to throw around, young man.”

“I usually mean the things I say. I care about Baz a lot, and that’s why I’m dating him.”

She glares at me. “I don’t trust you, Simon Snow, but he seems to, and I want to trust his judgment. So I’ll give you a chance, for my nephew’s sake,” she says, sitting back against her chair.

That went surprisingly well.

“However,” she adds, taking her wand from where it was set on the table and pointing it at me threateningly. Maybe it isn’t going as well as I thought. “I’m _not_ known to give second chances so you’d better watch yourself and not fuck that thing you and Baz have up. If you hurt him, I’ll come for you, Chosen One or not. He’s been through so much shit, I won’t let a stupid crush ruin him. Is that clear?”

She’s got fire in her eyes. I can tell she’s very fucking serious when she says that. I’m half intimidated that she’s acting like that and half glad that Baz has someone who cares enough to act like that. 

“Very clear,” I answer in a voice that I hope is confident, but that mustn’t actually be.

“Good, then.” 

She stands from her chair and walks around the table to be next to me. I’m kind of afraid she’s going to punch me or something, but instead, she clasps my shoulder, giving me something that looks like a smile but that still somehow looks menacing. “Take care of him and you and I shouldn’t have problems. Oh, and thank you for what you did, about the Mage and Natasha.” 

Her hand clenches when she says her sister’s name, squeezing my shoulder a bit too much.

“Of course. It was the right thing to do.”

“Oh, you still live in a world where people do the right thing?” she sighs, her voice full of disbelief as her hand leaves my shoulder and falls back along her body. “Lucky you.”

I’m not sure what to answer to that, so I don’t. Instead, I smile a bit nervously and stand up. “Good bye Mrs… Fiona,” I correct myself as she squints her eyes at me.

“Good bye, kid.”

The next second, I’m out of her apartment, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s so unfair I don’t have family Baz gets to meet. The bastard won’t have to experience _that_. Lucky fucking bastard. 

Well, I have Penny, but I’m pretty sure she’s already talked to him about me, about us, and if he didn’t complain about it, it must be because she was cool about it.

I mean, technically, his aunt was cool about it too. She didn’t tell me anything inappropriate or mean about our relationship, she just actively threatened me of casting some nasty spell on me if I did Baz dirty, but since I do intent on _not_ breaking his heart, I should be fine.

I run down the stairs, impatient to be back with Baz. It’s crazy, now that we’re dating I feel like I can’t go more than a few minutes without having him in my direct view.

Though, admittedly, even when I thought I hated him, I didn’t deal well with Baz not being around. I always had this uncontrollable need to have him close to me, I think.

When I get back inside the car -he left the doors unlocked- I give him a big, bright smile to make him understand that his aunt didn’t traumatize me. The worry on his face disappears immediately. 

“I take it, Fiona didn’t torture you?”

“She did not, thankfully. She just threatened me.”

“Ah, well, that was to be expected,” he chuckles as I buckle up my seatbelt. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“I’ve never been to London,” I say with a shrug. “So I don’t really have any idea what to do here. Surprise me.”

“You’ve never been to London?” he repeats, frowning like he can’t quite believe it. “Don’t the Wellbeloves live in London?”

“In the suburbs, not in the city, and Aggie and I just stayed at her place, so I never came here.”

He puts the key in the contact. The engine roars when he turns it.

“Oh. Well, that’s a pity. I come here often so I’m used to it by now but I’m sure London is quite nice when you’re here for the first time. I suppose we could do the kind of stuff tourists do, then? See the city the way people who don’t know it do.”

“That sounds good,” I smile as he pulls out of the spot where he parked the car.

He’s so focused when he drives. More so than when he’s doing schoolwork. You can see it’s something he actually pays attention to, contrary to his homework that, most of the time, he does a bit absentmindedly because it’s just _that_ easy for him.

I also rather like looking at the way the material of his jeans moves slightly on his thigh when he presses down on a pedal, or, on the contrary, when he keeps his foot away from it. 

And of course, as he always is, he’s so bloody graceful when he drives. 

“By the way, are you gonna tell me why you’ve got your aunt’s key?” I ask before he can make a comment about me checking him out.

I _know_ he loves it when I look at him, but he’s always an arsehole about it.

“It’s no great mystery. Fiona and I are close, and she wants me to have a place to go when things get too much at home and I need space. Since she’s not here often, she gave me keys. I practically live here as much as I live in Hampshire. I mostly use my keys to come with Dev and Niall, though. We drive to London, party in the city, and then we stay at Fiona’s flat for the night, or for a few nights. I like that because I spend time with them, and they like that because they can sleep together, in all the meanings of the words you can imagine. Their parents aren’t really cool with them being a couple so they’re not allowed to sleep at each other’s place without me, and when I’m here their parents make me sleep in the same room as them, so they can’t ever get any intimacy.”

“So basically, your aunt gave you keys to be nice and offer you an exit when your family gets on your nerves, and you use them to let your friends shag in peace.”

“Hey, if I want to be the best man at their wedding I have to be a good wingman now, you know?” he says with a smirk. 

It’s so cute he’s already thinking of his best friends getting married, to one another nonetheless. I’ve come to realize that Baz was actually a big romantic. When he’s not being a prick, he’s always saying sweet things to me, and he _loves_ those romances he makes me watch.

“I always plan ahead, Snow.”

He says that last part very wisely, like it’s some important piece of knowledge. 

I huff a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk, and then they’re horny
> 
> aka the plot of half the chapters I’ve written in the first part, I know I’m not being helpful

**Baz**

I intended to stay in London until I got a word from my father about the Mage’s trial -Snow told me Father would contact me- but the sky was starting to get darker so we eventually left. I didn’t want to drive the whole way back to school in the dark, and I didn’t really know how to entertain Snow anymore.

So here we are, on the road, the setting sun bathing us in an orangish light.

It’s really calm and relaxing. Especially since Snow isn’t talking. Don’t get me wrong, I love chatting with him, but silence isn’t so bad, sometimes. I really don’t think he could handle a conversation right now. His head is against the headrest, his hands crossed on his stomach, and his eyes are closed. I know he’s not sleeping, but he’s probably not far from doing so. 

I can’t really blame him. He gets tired much more quickly than I do, and today was particularly draining. Between his audience with the court this morning and our afternoon spent wandering in London, and with how little we slept last night on top of it all, Snow must be exhausted. It’s good he’s getting some rest.

But of course, right as I think that, my phone rings and disturbs his rest. He opens his eyes with a jerk, looking around, a bit lost, until his eyes fall on my phone, which is on the headboard in front of him. He didn’t want me using my phone while driving so he said he’d deal with my father’s message or call.

Message, it’s a message.

My father doesn’t call.

He unlocks my phone. I let him put his fingerprint in it, he was very excited about that, he thought it was, and I quote “wicked” that the phone could recognize your fingerprints. Snow is like a child around technology, he’s so easily impressed by it, but of course, whatever computers or televisions they had in the care homes where he grew up probably weren’t the newest models, and the Mage is so paranoid about technology, it makes sense it amazes Snow like that. It’s something he doesn’t know.

“Could you read it for me?” I ask as I see him touch the screen.

“Yeah, sure.” He clears his throat. “Hello. The court has sentences the Mage to a lifetime in jail for first degree murder and for hiring hitmen to attack Watford. His wand was snapped and he is currently being kept under surveillance at the Coven’s headquarters. Tomorrow, the Coven will send envoys to Watford to tell the students the school is closing and you will all have the afternoon to pack your belongings and leave. We haven’t even started to discuss who should take over the Headmaster position, so we don’t know when the school will open again, but it will probably take a minimum of three weeks for it to be organized properly. You are of course welcome to come back home, or stay with your aunt, but know that if you decide to come home, Mr Snow is welcome to come with you. Please tell me whether you’re coming or not, and if you are, when, so that I can warn your mother.”

My father has a way of putting so much information in a text when calling would be such a better option.

“Couldn’t he just call to say all of that instead of sending you a text the size of my last essay?” Snow comments.

Great minds think alike, I suppose.

“He hates calling. Is that all you have to say about his text?” I ask softly. 

Step one of being here for Snow during a difficult time : making him talk about the topic he’s trying to avoid. Honestly, I think it’s a bit sad I already know this so well after only being close to him for so little time.

His face closes off immediately. He looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the case of my phone, taking it off and putting it back on in one corner. “Well, I mean, your dad did say that the Mage was most likely going to get that sentence so I had the whole day to… process it you know but… I mean… it’s still… I know he deserves it and I know that it’s the right thing, and I’m relieved that I won’t have to see him ever again and that he won’t be able to… use me anymore… but… I… It’s just… I feel like I’m not getting any closure about all of this. He… He did those things to me and I… It hurts a lot, it really hurts… and he’s just… gone and I haven’t even seen him before his trial or anything, the last time I saw him was when he called me to his office, you know, that Monday after I came back to school, and I just… I don’t even know what I’d do if I had some time with him but I still wish I did. To… I don’t know… ask him questions or just fucking yell at him for everything he did to me, and my mum, and… yeah. It’s just… I’m relieved but at the same time I still feel like I have something weighing on me.”

I can practically see this weight he’s talking about on his shoulders. They’re a bit hunch, more than they usually are -Snow has terrible posture- and his face looks pained.

I take one of my hands off the wheel to hold his.

“Baz, you’re driving, keep your hands to yourself I don’t wanna die,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

“The road is straight for a while here, it’s fine, I don’t need both hands just now.”

Fiona would agree, but Fiona is a particularly reckless driver, so I’m not sure she should be trusted. I’ve rarely seen her driving without smoking while doing so, almost always having only one hand on the wheel. Because of the way she drives, Father didn’t let me go in her car for most of my childhood, and he still doesn’t like it much when Fiona drives me somewhere. He’d tell me off if he saw me right now.

“I’m pretty sure you do, though. Who taught you how to drive, by the way? Your dad? Your aunt? That doesn’t seem very practical, learning how to drive in London.”

He’s avoiding the conversation again, but I don’t try bringing the Mage up this time. Snow has said all he had to say, at least for now. And he knows that if he wants to tell me more, I’m here and I’ll listen.

“It’s Daphne. Fiona can’t be trusted with a car enough to teach me, according to my father, and he doesn’t have enough patience, while, as you’ve probably noticed, Daphne is a _very_ patient person.”

It used to make _me_ frustrated how _she_ never seemed to get frustrated. It still does sometimes. I’m not particularly patient myself. At all. 

“Well, she has 4 little kids, she’d probably have gone mad if she wasn’t,” Snow laughs. “Your sisters are cute but they’re quite a handful.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And so Daphne taught you. Was it hard? Did it take a lot of time?” he asks, looking down at our hands on his lap.

He’s started playing with my fingers instead of just holding my hand like a normal person. It’s something he does sometimes. He runs his fingers along mine, rub his thumb on the skin between my thumb and index finger, makes only the tips of our fingers touch, turn the ring I wear on my middle finger -or ring finger when it’s my right hand he’s holding- and all sorts of things like that. Snow fidgets a lot in general. He doesn’t like not having something to occupy his hands with. I often see him playing with a pen, the sleeve of his shirt, or whatever thing he can put his hands on, really. Once I saw him doing what he usually does with a pen, but with his _wand_ because he’s a fool. I can’t believe after 7 years of education at Watford he doesn’t know that a wand is something to be handled with care. 

“It wasn’t hard, but I wasn’t immediately good at it, which irritated me a lot. Usually, if I’m not good at something right when I start, I get frustrated and I stop trying. The only exception is violin but that’s probably because I started young. I had less of an attitude when I was a little kid. When Daphne first let me behind the wheel I got so frustrated at everything. The windscreen wipers weren’t working like I wanted them too, I made them go too fast. Yes, windscreen wipers, because _of course_ it was raining that day. I also hadn’t adjusted the mirrors so I had to stop the car and go do that, the engine stalled a couple of times… it was a disaster. Daphne said it was good and not at all unusual for a first time but I was so annoyed it took me two weeks before I let her convince me to try again. It didn’t go much better, but it was still a bit better, and then, we went once every two days, and by the end of the summer, the summer after sixth year, by the way, I knew how to drive quite well.”

Snow hums. “Did you ever do something really reckless when you were driving? Like did you ever almost have an accident?”

The question makes me tense. I hope Snow can’t feel or see it. 

Before my eyes I can see flashes of a dark, blurry road, of trees, and of blood. So much blood. 

I blink a couple of times and then I ask, trying to make my voice sound teasing, controlling it not to show any of my trouble. “Are you sure it’s the kind of question you want to be asking me while you’re in my car?”

It makes him snort. “Yeah. Just answer the question, Basil.”

“So demanding. Well, then. There was this one time, last summer. I was going to London with Dev and Niall, they were both in the backseat doing whatever it is they do, and we were passing through a little village when another car almost hit the side of mine. The driver had run a stop sign. Thankfully, he didn’t actually hit my car, so all we got was a big fright.” I say before I chuckle. “My hands were shaking so ridiculously much afterwards that Dev made me park on the side of the road and drove the rest of the way.”

When I glance at Snow after I’m done speaking I can see his eyes go wide. His fingers have a tighter grip on mine, he’s pretty much squeezing them now which isn’t exactly pleasant or comfortable. 

“Oh my God, it must have been so scary,” he says.

Him, the boy who slayed a dragon when he was 11 and fought creatures and found himself on life or death situations very regularly during the past 7 years, looks so incredibly shocked about how almost having a car accident must feel.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the rest, then. He’d probably have broken my fingers.

It’s too soon to talk to Snow about the summer after fifth year. I think he still has a rather positive vision of me, I’m not looking forward to having him see me for the fuck up I really am. 

But I’ll tell him, someday. I promised myself that. He told me so many things about his own life, his own struggles, and I’ve told him so little about mine. 

“It kind of was, yes. But I’ve seen worse. The chimera, for instance,” I tell him, hoping to change the topic. 

A very Snow kind of thing to do, I know. The idiot is rubbing off on me.

“You set that bloody chimera on me you don’t get to complain about it!” he says, sounding more amused than really angry, and he slaps my arm playfully. 

“In my defense, I didn’t think it’d be so hard to fight. I just wanted to scare you.”

“Is that supposed to make it any better?” he asks, sounding clearly outraged this time. 

**…**

**Simon**

When we finally get back to Watford, it’s way past nightfall. I think the drawbridge is going to be closed, but Baz’s magic isn’t as messed up as mine so he should be able to simply cast a spell to open it. As he gets out of the car, I see him flex his shoulders. I didn’t really think about it, but yeah, I suppose that keeping his arms -well, his _arm_ , I had his left hand on mine for most of the drive- on the wheel for so long made his muscles a bit sore.

“Are you sore, love?”

I’m pretty sure if there was enough light, I could see a faint pink shade on his cheeks. It may not be the first time I ask him that particular question, though it was _not_ in the same context.

“Shh, you fool.”

He walks around the car, and once he’s next to me, we both head to the entrance.

“What? I’m just asking a question!” I say innocently as I put my arm around his waist, pulling him close.

I don’t know if he likes that because he’s close to me or because I keep him warm, maybe a bit of both, but anyhow I know he likes that.

“Sure. If you are indeed just asking a question, then yes Snow, I am sore.”

“Um, that’s a problem. I’ll have to remedy that, then, don’t you think?”

“Or you could make it worse,” he says with one of his signature smirks. “Make me sore elsewhere.”

Crowley, I love flirting with him. He either catches up immediately and flirts back even more shamelessly -the thing he says, sometimes, I swear to God. He has a filthy mouth, that boy- or he pretends he doesn’t understand what I’m insinuating until I lose patience and just start kissing him. Or undressing him. That depends on how big of an arsehole he was when he acted like he didn’t know what was going on. If it was _a lot_ then I make him wait _a lot_ before I do what he wants. 

“That I could. But do I _want_ to, huh?”

He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly unimpressed. “Snow, you’ve looked five seconds away from ripping my clothes off me since I picked you up. Don’t act like you don’t want me.”

Bastard. Arrogant fucking bastard. I can’t believe him.

He’s so confident when he says that, and the worst part is that he’s _right_ to be because I have, indeed, been five seconds away from ripping his clothes off him since I saw him in those bloody clothes. He looked so fucking elegant. He always does, even in his school uniform, but he’s so much more on the weekends. He didn’t really wear his normal clothes at school before, but since we came back from his parents’, he does. I’m pretty sure he’s just doing it to get compliments. He knows I’m going to tell him how good he looks, how could I not.

We reach the entrance of the school before I can humiliate myself trying to answer something. “Would you mind spelling that open?” I ask him, tilting my chin at the closed drawbridge. 

“I don’t know… Maybe we could sleep here on the grass after you fucked me under the stars?” 

He says it all very calmly, with his cocky smile and his eyes full of mischief.

Merlin, save me.

“We’re not doing that. You’d freeze before I can take your shirt off anyway. Just open the bloody drawbridge, Baz.”

**…**

**Baz**

I can barely walk in our room that Snow is already on me, pushing my coat down my shoulders, and then down my arms until it falls on the floor. He’s doing it on purpose, he knows I hate having my clothes on the floor and he usually pays attention where he puts them when he takes them off. Then he’s kneeling in front of me, unlacing my shoes. I step out of them, pushing them to the side, and when Snow stands back up, he grabs me by the back of my neck and I expect him to pull me in a kiss, but instead, it’s to my ear that his lips go. “Take your top off and go lie on your bed, on your stomach. Now.”

Then his hand isn’t on me anymore and he’s stepping back, looking at me expectantly. 

My fingers fly up to the hem of my sweater and I make quick work of it. Then I’m unbuttoning my shirt just as quickly ; if Snow wanted a show, well, he’ll get it another time. I throw my clothes on his bed -we never need more than one bed, now, which is rather practical. We can put our mess, mostly Snow’s, on his bed- before lying on mine, just like he said. I take my pillow and rest my head on it, waiting for him to come.

He never fucked me on stomach, he says he likes looking at my face, but I suppose he’s in the mood to try that tonight. 

I’m still a bit puzzled as to why he didn’t want me to take my trousers off along with the rest, but it’s Snow. I don’t pretend to understand what goes on in that head of his. I’m not sure _he_ understands what goes on in his head. 

I hear him take his own trousers off, as well as everything that isn’t his underwear. Then, he walks towards me, and soon enough, I can feel his fingers, feather light, going up my thigh until his hand is on my arse. “It’s a pity you were wearing that long coat all day. You look amazing in those jeans.”

“Yeah, maybe they look good on me, but they’re not exactly going to be practical to fuck. Take them off,” I answer.

That’s not necessarily a good move if I want things to go my way. He knows I like it when he orders me around a bit in bed, so he tells me off when _I_ order him around. 

“Oh, but Baz, who said anything about fucking?” he says, the bloody nightmare, as he climbs on the bed and sits on my thighs. The material of my jeans is thick, but I can still feel his cock against my arse. He’s half hard already. It makes me smile. Whatever he says, he wants me as much as I want him. “I told you I’ll help you feel less sore. So I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massage?”

I can’t say I was expecting that.

“Yes, a massage. Give me that posh body lotion you have in one of your drawers.”

He knows what I have in my drawers?

I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not new that Snow has a thing for looking through my belongings. Stalker.

Still, I reach for the drawer where the lotion he’s talking about it, and gives it to him. I hear him uncap it, and pour some in his hand. It sounds almost exactly the same way as when it’s lube he’s pouring in his hand. I _wish_ it was lube. I’m all down for a massage, but not _now._

But Snow isn’t merciful with me, not in those situations. “It might be a bit cold.”

And it is, even for me. It’s strange to feel Snow’s hands on me associated with cold. He’s always so warm. He starts massaging my shoulders as best as he can. It’s not incredible, he probably hasn’t done anything like that before, but I couldn’t care less. It still feels good. 

“You’re so tense,” he whispers as his thumbs work on untying the knots between my shoulder blades. I know it’s not some kind of flirting, just a comment, so I don’t answer it like it’s flirting.

“Today was stressful.”

“You were not the one being questioned,” he teases. 

Just as he says that, he touches a spot where the pressure feels particularly good. A soft moan escapes my lips. “Here, please. And… _fuck_ Snow you’re good at this. Maybe I wasn’t the one being questioned but you were and it drove me crazy. You should know how it is, remember my trial?”

“Shh, don’t talk about that,” he says as he keeps doing those things with his fingers that magically relieve the tension in my shoulders. “Just enjoy yourself, okay love?” I feel him bend down. He’s still massaging me, but I can feel his breath on the back of my neck and the top of my back, near where he’s touching me, when he whispers “I want you all relaxed when I make love to you. It’s our last night here in Merlin knows how long ; we have to make it memorable, right?”


	3. Bonus - Daphne and Malcolm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Daphne get their little interlude again because I couldn’t help myself, and I couldn’t make poor Malcolm judge the Mage for Natasha’s death without making him talk about it a bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if I’ll be able to post a chapter about the boys today because I was busier than I thought I would be, so it’s already late and I haven’t written a single word for it

**Daphne**

The girls just went to their room to play for some time before bed when I hear the entrance door open. Then I hear the friction of his clothes as he takes off his coat, the aglet of his shoelaces against the floor when he undoes them. Footsteps in my direction. I’m in the living room, like I often am in the evenings when Malcolm works late. 

“Hello,” he says as he comes near me, bending down to kiss my forehead.

“Hello. I saved you a plate, it’s waiting for you in the dining room.”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure? You should eat something.”

He didn’t eat at lunch either. I know it because during lunchtime, he texted me to say he was not going to be back soon because he was working on something with the Coven. He forgets to take care of himself when he works. When I started living here, I noticed that he could go four, five days without sitting down to take a proper meal, only eating whatever snacks he keeps in his office, because he was too caught up in work to even go get a plate from the kitchen. It’s a bad habit he passed down to Basil. I hope the girls won’t copy that as well. 

“It’s fine, Daphne. I’m going to go to my office, I still have some things to do,” he says, not quite looking at me.

I frown. He’s hiding something. It’s not like him to hide things from me.

I wonder what business he had with the Coven today. I know there was the audience with Simon Snow, but he assured me that wouldn’t last long before he left, so I know there must be something else. It probably concerns the Mage too, he is the Coven’s main worry at the moment, but I have no idea what it could be. 

But as fast as he came, Malcolm is gone, and I know there’s no point in following him. When he goes to his office, the message is clear, he doesn’t want me around.

It stings a little, knowing that there’s obviously something on his mind but that he doesn’t want to even let me try to help, but I’m not going to force him. 

**…**

**Malcolm**

I don’t know how long I’ve been here when I hear footsteps on the other side of the wall. Daphne. I hope she won’t try to come in here. I can’t deal with her now. She’s kind, but she can’t help. Not with that.

Natasha isn’t a topic I even mention with Daphne. Not because she wouldn’t listen or care, she would, that’s just how she is, but _I_ don’t want to talk to her about my _ex wife._ We still broach the topic, sometimes. On the anniversary of Natasha’s death, for instance, because even after all these years, this day, the reminder of what happened this day, still hurts as much. I thought it would fade, with time, the same way I missed her less and less as the years went by, but that pain never really left. Seeing Baz on that day certainly doesn’t help either. He’s always miserable, and it makes me feel even worse because I should be able to be here for him, I know firsthand what he’s going through, but I can’t. 

But tonight, the only thing here to make it hurt more is that picture, the one picture I allow myself to keep here, the last picture I took of her.

And then… there’s the ambre-coloured drink in my hand to make it hurt a little less.

**…**

**Daphne**

When I woke up to go feed Octavia, Malcolm still hadn’t come to bed. 

It’s worrying. Usually, even when he works late, he eventually comes sleeping, which is why now, after putting my baby back in her crib, I’m on my way downstairs. 

There’s still light filtering through the door, yellowish rays on the bottom and sides of it. Merlin, what’s he still doing in here?

I don’t knock, I just walk in. If he really wanted to be alone, he could have closed the door, but he didn’t.

Aleister Crowley.

He’s sitting at his desk, bent over it. His elbows are supporting his head, and his hands are pulling at the hair over his ears. The lightbulb hanging from the ceiling just over his desk makes the tear tracks on his cheeks stand out.

And he’s got a bottle of whiskey, practically empty, next to him. I know that bottle had been almost full for a while. He doesn’t drink the alcohol in his office often.

“Malcolm?” I say because I’m not sure he heard the door open. If he did, he didn’t react.

His head shoots up immediately. So he _hadn’t_ heard the door.

“Daphne? What’re you doin’ here?”

He’s slurring. He’s definitely had too much to drink. What in the name of magic happened with the Coven?

“It’s the middle of the night, darling. What are _you_ doing here? You should be in bed,” I say as I head in his direction.

“I didn’t… I didn’t see the hours pass,” he answers slowly, as if it made his head hurt just to talk.

It probably does.

I take his bottle in hand and wave it in front of his face. “How much of this did you drink?”

“Most of it.”

“Merlin, Malcolm. Should I keep these things locked away somewhere?” I ask with a bit more bite to the words than I mean to.

He used to drink a lot. Not often, but when he did, it was always a lot. Too much, even. It was mostly on days that were meaningful to him, that reminded him of his ex wife. But I know that today is not one of those days, so I have no idea what pushed him to drink this much tonight.

“Don’t treat me like the children,” he mumbles.

“Don’t act as carelessly as the children, then. Crowley, why would you drink so much?” I ask, slamming the bottle against his desk when I put it back down.

It makes him move back in his chair, his hands flying up to his ears, as if to cover them, before they fall back along his body when he sees I’m not going to make any other loud noise. 

“Can you walk to our room on your own?”

I want to get him out of here before I start asking the questions that are burning my tongue.

“I think so,” he answers as he lays his hands flat against his desk to push himself up. 

He staggers a little, but he’s stable enough, so I don’t offer him help. I simply make sure to open the doors wide and turn the lights on, especially those on the stairs, until we’re in our room. There, he only takes his shirt off and then he’s collapsing in bed, fighting with the covers to put them over himself. It would be amusing if he wasn’t doing it because he’s drunk. I wait until he’s settled to turn the lights off and join him in bed, sitting down and reaching for my necklace. I whisper a spell to help Malcolm sober up, which makes him hum appreciatively, and then I finally lie down, on my side to look at him. The blinds let some moonlight in the room, so I can actually see him, though it’s faint. “Malcolm,” I say before he can get a chance to fall asleep. “What happened today?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t be like that. There’s clearly something troubling you. What is it? Does it have something to do with the Mage’s trial?”

His head turns until he can look at me when I say that. I suppose that’s answer enough.

“What happened? Is it something he did? Something he said?”

He sighs. That’s it, I got him to talk. 

“It’s… I don’t want to talk about that with _you_ ,” he says, groaning.

With _me?_

“What do you mean with me? Why wouldn’t you want to talk about this with me?”

“Because it’s about Natasha!” he answers as he moves his head again, to look up at the ceiling.

Of course it is.

There are so little things that could put him in that state. 

“Malcolm, I don’t mind, you can tell me. I know you suffer from her loss, and I don’t blame you for that. It’s normal.”

We’ve been over this a million times already. He thinks I should resent him for still feeling so strongly about her death. He thinks he shouldn’t still feel so strongly about her death. _I_ think it’s stupid. If Malcolm died so suddenly and so tragically as Natasha Pitch did, I know I would always be pained thinking about his death, even years after, even if I remarried. You can’t love someone deeply and just… completely move on after losing them.

“Come on, talk to me,” I say, reaching out until I can put my hand on his arm, absentmindedly stroking it. “What happened?”

I see his chest rise up and then go down as he takes a deep breath. “He’s responsible for her death. The Mage. He sent the vampires to Watford. It’s his fault Natasha died, and it’s his fault Baz…” 

He gulps. 

I’m pretty sure I can count the times he said “vampire” when talking about his son on the fingers of one hand. He isn’t going to say them now.

It takes me a moment to fully comprehend what Malcolm said. The Mage was the one who set vampired on the school. Not the Humdrum, like we all thought. The Mage. The man who was then put in charge of Watford is responsible for the loss of the person he replaced.

And for ruining a child’s life.

It makes me feel sick.

I think it would make anyone sick, no matter their opinion on the Mage, or the Pitches.

“I thought this was over, that I wouldn’t have to hear about her death ever again after all these years but today I spent the whole afternoon talking about it, _judging_ the man responsible for it and it’s… difficult. It was even more difficult because all the other Coven members were constantly glancing at me whenever anyone said her name, and then I had to face him and I… He looked so… _smug_ when we were questioning him about her, Daphne. And… And knowing _why_ he did it… Crowley, his reason why he hired the vampires, it’s just… disgusting. He wanted her job. That’s all. He wanted her job, and he thought the way to achieve that was proving that she was not the right person to be in charge of Watford by setting _vampires_ on the school. Natasha died because he fucking wanted to show she was not a competent Headmistress. And… And it’s not just Natasha, it’s Baz too. Natasha being dead… it was devastating, it felt like having my heart being ripped out of my chest, but then, on top of that, seeing my son lying on the floor _looking_ dead with all that blood on his neck, and casting spells on him not knowing if he’d ever open his eyes again… it was the most terrifying moment of my life. And that was because of David’s fucking hunger for power too.”

The more he talks, the sadder I feel. It’s the first time he talks so openly about that day, and it breaks my heart to hear it. I knew how much pain his ex-wife’s dead had caused him, but he never mentioned how he felt about Baz’s Turning. Until now, I didn’t even know how it went. I didn’t know he’d found him almost dead.

Now I’m starting to understand why his reactions seemed so… intense, a few summers ago when…

It’s because he’s already gone through that.

“Malcolm… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. There’s nothing you could say, anyway. Let’s… let’s just sleep on it. It’s late and the girls will be up early,” he says, and I can hear the tears in his voice more than I can see them on his cheeks. “Just… would you mind coming here?”

I immediately shift until I’m on his side, and I feel his arm close around me as I put my head on his shoulder. It’s how we used to sleep, at the beginning, before we had children who sneak in our bed or require us to leave it to go see them. I’m not sure it’s really providing him with any comfort, but if it’s what he wants, I’m more than fine with that. 

“I love you Daphne, you know that?” he says once I’m settled. I made him sober up with my spell, but his breath still stinks of alcohol.

I smile nonetheless. I suppose that those are some words that can always put a smile on your face.

“I know. I love you too.”


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for the boys to leave Watford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chapter??? completely in simon’s pov???? and it’s not smut???? what’s happening to me??? am i suddenly able to write simon????

**Simon**

There’s really something wonderful about waking up like that, curled up against Baz, feeling his bare limbs tangled with mine. We never slept naked before because he gets cold, but last night he was too exhausted to even stand up and put his pyjamas on, so he didn’t. He seems warm enough though. Well, warm for Baz, if he was not a vampire I’d be very worried to feel a skin that cold against mine. I suppose having me pressed against him prevented him from freezing. 

So, when I, a bit reluctantly, get out of bed, I make sure to put the covers, both his and mine, over him. He usually slept with two covers in the winter, and even though it’s not winter yet, well, he had no clothes on him so he can’t rely on that for warmth and he told me that he doesn’t produce any body heat. That’s probably why the bastard doesn’t sweat.

I’d have stayed in bed with him longer, but I know he’s gonna sleep for at least one or two more hours, and as much as I love looking at him, even I get tired of that if I do it for too long, and I don’t want to get tired of seeing his beautiful face. Ever. So instead, I decide to pay Ebb a visit. I’ve neglected her a lot. In fact, I haven’t seen her once since I came back to school, too caught up in everything that was happening in my life, but now I have some free time and not too much on my mind, so once I’ve put clothes on and left a note for Baz in case he wakes up while I’m still gone, I’m headed to Ebb’s.

The goats welcome me before she does ; they’re already out on the hills. One of them comes to me, rubbing its muzzle against my leg. Merlin, I wish Baz had come with me. His reaction to the goats would have been priceless. I scratch the one that’s next to me behind its ears, which makes it rub its head against me more.

The goats like me a lot, I think. I used to spend so much time around them when I was in second and third years and came to visit Ebb almost every time I had free time that wasn’t monopolized by Penny. After, I came less and less, because I was busy elsewhere, and because being with Ebb and the goats was a bit less fun than before, but I still tried to come often. I know that she is more comfortable around animals than people, but I still think she’s a bit lonely and that being with someone who can _talk_ to her could only do her good. 

“Hiya, Simon!” she says when she sees me. She’s almost running in my direction, some of the goats following her.

It’s a bit comical to watch, honestly. 

Once she’s close enough, I give her a quick hug.

“Hi, Ebb. I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy too. It’s been so long since the last time I saw your face,” she says as she moves back. “What kept you so busy?”

She has a smile on her face, she _really_ looks happy to see me. It makes me feel all warm inside. Ebb always look happy to see me. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see me as often as Penny, but she never seems to get annoyed with me. 

“It’s complicated. There was a lot going on for me, so I couldn’t really find the time to come see you, I’m sorry.”

I’m really sorry about it. Ebb is so good to me, she doesn’t deserve that I treat her like that. 

“Oh no, no, no, don’t apologize, it’s fine. I understand. You’re here now, it’s what matters. Do you want tea? Something for breakfast?”

“That would be nice,” I tell her with a smile.

Ebb cooks her own stuff, she doesn’t usually eat the food from the kitchen. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t want to go inside the buildings of the school and see all the people or if she just prefers it, but I think it’s pretty cool, and she makes really good food. Especially biscuits and cakes, Ebb is great at baking. I wonder what she’s gonna give me for breakfast.

**…**

Ebb and I stay in comfortable silence while I have breakfast, the goats staying far enough from my food. I think Ebb trained them not to come near when she’s eating, so they understand to do the same even when she’s not the one eating. It’s only once I’m done that I say “Ebb, has the Coven warned you?”

“Warned me about what?” she asks, frowning.

Shit, she doesn’t know. I don’t want to be the one who tell her. She always stays at Watford, even when the students are on holidays, but this isn’t like holidays. The Coven is closing the school. There’s no Headmaster or Headmistress. I’m not sure they’ll let her stay here.

Now I realize that I don’t know if Ebb owns a place somewhere outside of Watford. I don’t believe she’s ever mentioned something like that, and I don’t think she has one anyway. She wouldn’t stay here all year long if she did. 

“They’re closing the school. The Coven, I mean.”

I see her eyes go wide.

“What, but why?”

“I… It’s really, really, _really_ complicated, but long story short, the Mage’s going to jail so there’s no Headmaster anymore, so they have to close the school until they find a new one.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she says, her hand shooting up in a way that means ‘stop’. “The Mage is going to jail? Why! And why are you taking it so well, you two are close.”

She sounds very confused, and her eyebrows are even more furrowed than before. 

“As I said, it’s complicated, but it’s for the best. You’ll probably end up hearing about it anyway, you don’t need me to tell you. And to be honest I am not really taking it well, but I don’t wanna talk about that either. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about though, if you don’t mind changing the topic.”

She seems like she doesn’t want to change the topic, she must have so many questions, but she doesn’t push. She’ll get most of her answers soon anyway, I’m pretty sure. News of what the Mage did should spread extremely quickly once he’ll really be in prison and not just waiting somewhere in the Coven’s headquarters.

“What is it you want to talk about, kid?” Ebb asks, reaching out to pat my knee like she pats the head of the goats sometimes.

“Well, I have broken up with Agatha, some weeks ago…”

“Simon I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We weren’t in love, we’re much better as friends, that’s not what I want to talk about. But yeah, we broke up and so I was single but I’m not anymore, I’m dating someone else,” I say, and I can already feel a smile growing on my face.

I’m dating Baz. It still seems a bit crazy, to be honest. That bloke is way out of my league.

“Oh, and who’s the lucky girl?”

Here it is.

I don’t think that Ebb will mind that it’s not a girl I’m dating, but I can still feel my heart racing in my chest. Crowley is that what coming out is like? Am I coming out?

I mean, I guess I am. I’m telling Ebb I’m dating a boy, that’s kinda gay.

Fuck if I feel that way about coming out to _Ebb_ , the sweetest and kindest person I know, I can’t imagine how Baz must have felt when he told his bordeline homophobic dad he was gay.

I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s… uh, well, it’s not a girl. And I don’t think I’m the lucky one in that relationship,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“A boy? I didn’t know you liked boys. But it’s fine of course don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you kid, if you’re better with a boy than a girl then go be with a boy, I… when I was your age there was this girl I liked, so really, I don’t mind I know what it’s like. I’m just a bit surprised.”

“Yeah, I can’t blame you, I was surprised too,” I chuckle. “But it just… happened. I started having feelings for him, and he had feelings for me too so we figured our shit out and now we’re together. But wait,” I say when one part of her sentence finally hits me. Crowley, Baz was right when he used to say I’m slow. “You liked a girl?”

Ebb’s whole face turns red. It looks a bit funny with her hair being so blonde and pale.

I can’t believe Ebb used to have a crush on a girl. Is she a lesbian? I’m not going to ask her that.

“Yes. When I was at Watford, but unfortunately, she preferred my brother, so nothing ever happened,” Ebb says, snorting. I think it’s the first time she mentions her brother without crying. “But anyway, it’s not the matter.” She waves her hand, as if to chase the subject like she would a bug. “I’m really glad that your bloke likes you back, Simon. Can I know who it is?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s Baz. Baz Pitch, I mean.”

**…**

**Ebb**

Eh, I guess the kid’s gayer than his aunt. Good for Simon.

**…**

**Simon**

Surprise washes over Ebb’s face. “I thought you didn’t like him? You’ve complained about that boy a lot.”

I laugh at that. It’s true, I may have vented about Baz more than what is acceptable to Ebb. But hey, Penny set the quota! I had to find someone who’d listen, and Ebb always listened.

“Yeah, I know, but well, it turns out that I didn’t hate him as much as I thought,” I smile.

**…**

When I eventually come back to the room after a rather long time if I’m being honest, Baz is closing his suitcase. I can see that my bed is done and that there’s a bag that seems full of stuff on it, so I suppose that he packed my things too before he dealt with his. He probably did it with magic, though, so it mustn't have been too much of a hassle. It’s still a nice gesture.

“Hey,” I tell him as I go sit on his bed, next to his suitcase. “That’s a pretty shirt you’re wearing.”

He has _so many_ cool shirts. This one is light purple, with patterns in a darker shade of purple. As he does with all of his shirts, which looks really good on him, he tucked it in his trousers, with the top two buttons open.

He makes looking gorgeous so easy. I know I’d look like a complete tosser if I tried wearing his shirt, even if I did it the exact same way he does. But I suppose that all of this time he spends in the bathroom pays off.

“Thank you. I packed our belongings, I was thinking you could visit Bunce if you haven’t already, I’d go say hi to Dev and Niall, and then we could leave? I could stop on the way to Hampshire to get food, don’t worry, I won’t let you starve without lunch.”

I roll my eyes at him, even though it’s true that when he mentioned leaving soon, I thought about lunch. In my defense, it’s a quarter to eleven and the way to Hampshire isn’t that short, we’ll definitely be on the road at lunchtime, especially since we do have to go see our friends first.

“Well I have seen Penny today, so yeah, I’m gonna go do that.”

“Where were you then?” he asks curiously as he lifts his suitcase of the bed. “If you were not with Bunce.”

“With Ebb.”

“The goatherd?” He sounds skeptical.

“Don’t be an arse about it. She’s great, I love her.”

Surprisingly, he just smiles. “It looks like you do, yes. I don’t think I’ve seen you go pay her a visit since you came back, though? Did you go that week you didn’t come to class?”

“No… I actually didn’t visit her this year. I was a bit busy recovering from my mission and also… you know… falling in love with my mortal enemy,” I tell him, running my hand along the side of his thigh.

“Hands of me,” he says, slapping my hand. “We’re not going to shag before we leave.”

I stand up, sliding in the space between the edge of the bed and him. We’re practically pressed against each other like that. He takes a step back.

“But I was barely touching, I said nothing about shagging.”

“Not _yet_ . I’m starting to know how you work, Snow. You always do that. You touch me just _barely_ and the next minute your hands are in my pants. So _hands off me_. Go see your friend and stop pestering me. Shoo,” he says, pushing me to the side, which makes me laugh.

“Damn Basil, if you want to get rid of me just say it.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t want to get rid of you. I’m rather content with your presence. In _general_. Not at this very moment. Just go see Bunce, and please don’t take forever. I know she’s your friend and you love her and you have to say goodbye and blah, blah, blah, but I want to leave soon. There’s no point being at this school if there’s no class, I’d rather be home.”

“Ok, ok, I’m going. I’m gonna take my backpack, this way I can go directly to the parking lot when I’m done with Penny and Aggie, okay?”

“Oh, you’re gonna see Wellbelove too? Well, be quick then.”

I roll my eyes. “I will be quick, Jesus Christ you’ve said it a million time.”

I walk to my bed to sling my bag on one of my shoulders, and then I’m on my way out, turning around when I read the door.

“Bye, babe,” I say, blowing him a kiss and watching his reaction.

I’ve only ever called him ‘love’, because he called me that so I assumed it was fine, but I kinda want to try other pet names. There are a lot of ridiculous, couple-y things I want to call Baz. He doesn’t seem to mind that one. He raises his bloody eyebrow, surprised, but then I can see a smile tugging at his lips so I know he’s fine with it.

“Bye, Snow,” he says and I can _hear_ his smile in his voice.

Yeah, he definitely liked ‘babe’. I’m keeping this one.

**…**

The goodbyes with Penelope are rather quick, because she doesn’t like goodbyes. And because we’re freezing in front of the Cloisters -I can’t get in, so I had to resort to send her one of those bird messages. They’re hard to make, but I completely forgot to ask Baz to lend me his phone to send her a text message, and I happened to have paper, a pen, and my wand, so it was a reasonable option. I didn’t even fuck up the spell that bad, the little bird just folded itself back into a bird shape and flew away right after Penny was done reading what was written on it. 

I was about to ask her to go get Agatha for me, so that I could say goodbye to her too, when Penny says “By the way, Simon, I wanted to ask… Those notebooks you found in the Mage’s office. Do you think you could lend them to me? I’d like to study them, if you don’t need them anymore.”

‘Need them’ is a big word. The only thing I ever really ‘needed’ them for was to show the Coven what he’d written about Natasha Grimm-Pitch, and I wish I hadn’t needed that. But I understand what she means. And I’m not surprised that she’s asking that. She’s shown clear interest in the notebooks when she saw them on Baz’s bed, and she’s going to have a few weeks of free time, of course she’d want to have them. It’s going to keep her busy, and satisfy her curiosity and endless desire for more knowledge.

“I don’t need them anymore. You can have them, if you want. Keep them, for all I care. Baz doesn’t want to read them either, it makes him uncomfortable, the way the Mage writes, he says that even though it was interesting, he’s read enough,” I answer as I take the bag off my back.

I let it down on the floor, bending over it to look through the stuff inside it -Baz cast a spell that makes the inside bigger that it should- until I can pull out seven notebooks. All of them, except for the one the Coven has kept for the Mage’s trial. I don’t know if they’ll ever give it back to me, and I truly don’t care.

“But will you be able to read them? Baz and I could because my magic allowed me to cancel the spells the Mage had cast on it since… uh… you know, we’re… related.”

“I will be able to read them. When a mage gets their wand snapped, all of the spells they cast that are still working simply stop working.”

I didn’t know that.

I feel like Baz and Penny are constantly showering me with information about how magic and our world work, and yet I still don’t know so many things, it’s crazy.

“Well, have fun reading that then.”

“Have fun being used for a blood ritual,” she answers, smirking a bit.

**…**

The goodbyes with Agatha are even quicker. She gets down because I asked Penny to tell her I was waiting, and we just exchange a few words and smiles before she gives me her number so that I can contact her if I want, kisses my cheeks, and goes back inside. She seems very excited about Watford closing. But Agatha isn’t very fond of magic, not the way I or Baz are.

Baz.

He’s waiting for me, sitting on the hood of his car. When he sees me coming, he jumps back up, going on my side of the car to open the door with a ridiculous bow.

“You’re so dramatic,” I say with a smile as I walk around him to go sit down. 

He gives me a wink as he takes my hand in his, kissing my fingers. “You love it.”

I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little thing i didn’t include : on the way to Hampshire, Baz stops at a McDonald’s to get them food and Simon is completely astonished to see Basilton Grimm-Pitch eat that kind of food “I didn’t know you even knew McDonald’s exists. Do you posh people go to McDonald’s?.” “Crowley Snow, I’m rich, I don’t live under rock.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are cute  
> Simon tries to make Baz eat with his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to apologize for the typos and grammar mistakes, since I’m writing the chapters on the day I post them now, and usually finish late, so I don’t have it in me to proofread before posting

**Baz**

The mood at home is strange when we get there. The girls act just like they always do, but my parents are acting weird. Daphne hugged me a little too long when she said hello, and Father won’t look at me. 

“What’s wrong with your dad and Daphne?” Snow asks once we get to my room.

So even Snow noticed? And he’s only been here for two days. Either he’s good at reading people -he’s not- or their behaviour is really that obvious.

I lay my suitcase on the floor and cast a spell to make all of my stuff go back where it belongs before I turn my attention back to Snow “I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be because of what you told the Coven, about the vampire attack.” It seems like the logical option. Father never talks about Mother’s death, it’s almost a rule as much as the actual rules I’ve been given. Having to discuss it yesterday, with the Mage and the Coven, can’t have been easy. It wasn’t easy for me, reading those horrible things the Mage wrote about it. “Father was probably rather shaken about it and he must have told Daphne. Being the compassionate person she is, I’d say she’s feeling sorry for us.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t,” Snow says with a shrug. “Feel sorry for you, I mean. This whole thing is sad and messed up.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “But let’s not talk about it again. We’ve been over this, I told you how I felt, I don’t want to do that all over again. Don’t you think we’ve had enough depressive talks and crying sessions lately? I feel like the past few weeks, since you came back, have only been a long period of sadness and anxiety, broken by some moments of joy. I’d like that to change. None of us is in mortal danger at this very moment, you’ve done research about your mother, the situation with the Mage has been dealt with by the Coven… we can have a break now, right?” I walk closer to him until I can put my hands flat on his chest, one over his beating heart. “I’d rather have long periods of joy broken by some moments of sadness. Wouldn’t that be better?”

“It definitely would, yeah,” he smiles as one of his hands slithers to my hip, pulling me closer. “You’re right, let’s not dwell on the bad stuff. We haven’t enjoyed the good stuff enough.”

We certainly haven’t. I don’t think we could ever enjoy ‘the good stuff’ _enough_. How do you get enough of happiness? 

“Hm, and what good stuff are you talking about?” I tease him.

He smiles even wider, tenderness in his eyes as he reaches for my hair with his free hand, tucking it behind my ear. Crowley, the fool has a whole obsession with my hair. He’s always touching it. “You know what I’m talking about. This. Us.” He moves both of his hands until they meet between my neck, and he leans his head against my shoulder. My arms almost automatically close around his middle. It amazes me how well he fits here, in between my arms. Like he belongs there.

He’s so close, and he’s being so soft, it makes my heart clench. I still can’t really fathom the fact that Simon Snow enjoys this, being close to me, even when he’s not touching me because he’s getting me in the mood to fuck me later. I think some wicked part of me is still convinced that this is all just about sex, because the idea of Simon sharing my feelings is terrifying. 

“I never thought you’d feel this safe,” he whispers, his breath on my neck.

**…**

**Simon**

I love him so much.

I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.

He’s here, and all he’s doing is holding me, his hair tickling my forehead and his perfume filling my nostrils, and yet I feel like my heart could burst because of how fucking much I love him at this very moment.

Yet it’s still hard to say it. I’ve told him I _thought_ I loved him, I’ve told him I _could_ love him, but I haven’t told him _I love him_. He has. He’s so much braver than I am when it comes to that. 

But he seems to understand. He seems to know that when I’m saying those things, like I did now, telling him he feels safe, it’s not exactly what I mean. That it’s deeper. Because when I do, he always answers “I love you too.”

**…**

**Baz**

I feel like we’ve just arrived when Daphne calls us for dinner. Snow and I relocated to my bed, it’s more comfortable to cuddle than standing in the middle of the room like idiots, and we spent the afternoon chatting and watching stuff on my laptop. We watched films before but Snow said he’d like trying to watch a show because he used to watch Doctor Who at Wellbelove’s place and he prefers having a story that lasts more than two or three hours.

He seems to be as surprised as I am at how fast time passed, but he’s still quickly out of bed. Of course, we’re going to eat, he’s not going to wait too long. He’s really impressed by the quality of the food. I find that both endearing and sad. I wish he had grown in comfortable enough conditions that it didn’t make him so cheerful to eat what I consider to be a regular meal.

Fuck the Mage.

When we sit around the table, I can already tell that my Father is still in his weird mood from earlier, but Daphne seems to have gone back to her usual self, smiling at us as we settle. “I’m glad you decided to come back here with Baz, Mr Snow,” she tells him.

“I’m glad to be here too,” he answers with a shy smile. I know he likes Daphne, it’s hard not too, especially for someone like Snow who tends to like people until they give him a reason not to, but he isn’t really comfortable talking with her. The only adults he ever had to talk to were the people at the care homes, the Mage, our teachers, the Wellbeloves and recently, my aunt and a couple of Coven members. Most of them were authority figures, or intimidating to him. He doesn’t know how to act around adults that aren’t either of those things. “Thank you for allowing me to stay while the school is closed. It’s very generous.”

“It’s nothing,” she says before going back to her plate, ending the conversation.

“Simon,” Ophelia says immediately, tugging on his sleeve before he can reach for the food. 

I’m pretty sure he’s frustrated, we’re eating something he likes and it smells delicious, but if he is, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he looks down at my sister. “Yes?”

“Simon stay home?” 

“Yes, I’m staying here. Why, don’t you want me to?” he asks her with a little laugh.

She shakes her head. “Simon stay home good. Simon tell stories?”

“I could tell you stories if you want, of course.”

She nods, and then she’s looking at me. “Baz stay home too?”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“How long are you staying?” 

The question comes from next to me. Mordelia. 

“I don’t know yet. That depends on the Coven. Father said it’d be at least a few weeks.”

I was hoping to get some reaction from my father by mentioning him and the Coven, but nothing. He just eats his food, seemingly not paying attention to us. To _me._

Mordelia’s eyes shine a little at my answer. “So you’re not going to leave soon?”

“No. We’ll have lots of time to spend together.”

“Well, that’s if you’re not always with Simon,” she says, raising her chin in a bit of a scornful manner. So she’s going back to pretending I’m only annoying to her, I see. She’s a nightmare of a little girl. I love her. 

It makes Snow snort, of course. 

“Come on girls, let the boys eat,” Daphne intervenes, since Snow still hasn’t helped himself.

He’s uncomfortable taking food here, unless I’m the one giving it to him. I haven’t asked him why because I’m pretty sure his answer is going to make me angry. Not at him, of course, but at the way he was raised. Well, raised, that’s a big word. He was given a roof, and the basic necessities. He wasn’t _raised._ No one took _care_ of him. I’m pretty sure the only words spoken to him for most of his childhood were rules and reprimands. 

My sisters resume eating, not asking us questions anymore, so I reach for Snow’s plate and put some food in it before giving it back to him. I don’t overfill his plate the way he does when he helps himself at school, but I know that it’s not a problem for him. He has enough to be full with what I gave him. After being with him when there’s food around for a little while, and learning more about his past, I’m starting to understand why he takes such big portions and eats so fast. He fears he isn’t going to get enough food. That he’ll be hungry. _Truly_ hungry, not hungry in the way he says he is before every meal. Hungry in a way that makes his stomach hurt because it’s empty.

Once again, I haven’t asked him about it, but it’s not so hard to connect the dots. The way he acts with food, coupled with how skinny he always is when he comes back after the summer, it most likely means that he isn’t fed well in the care homes. Maybe they just don’t have enough food to feed all the kids the amount they need, or they don’t give them enough time to eat slowly, or they take away food as punishment. I wouldn't be surprised if any of those was true, or if they were _all_ true to some extent.

He thanks me when I give him his plate, but instead of starting to eat like I thought, he reaches for my own plate.

“Snow, what are you doing?”

He gives me a knowing look. “We’ve talked about this.”

And we did. Profusely. Ever since I let myself eat in front of him, though while hiding my mouth with my hand, he’s been asking me why I didn’t do that when I was with my family. He was even more insufferable yesterday since I _didn’t_ hide my mouth with my hand when we were at the restaurant. He thinks it’d be good for me to try and beat my fear of eating in front of people by having a meal with my family. He says it’s great that I’m doing it with him, but he’d like me to do it with my parents and siblings. “They’re your family, Baz, what are they gonna say?” he said. But he wasn’t here, all those years ago, when the bloodlust started haunting me. He wasn’t there to see the horrified look on my father’s and even _Daphne’s_ face when I sat around the table like I had done every day for years and my fangs fucking popped out as I brought food to my mouth. 

He wasn’t _there_ . He didn’t _see_ it. He can’t _understand_.

If they see my fangs, they’re reminded of what they’re trying to ignore. That I’m a monster.

Pitiless, Snow starts putting food on my plate. Not much, he knows I’m full quickly, but a little bit of everything. Meat, vegetables, potatoes, and sauce. And then he hands it to me. “Come on.”

“No.”

“Baz, please,” he says with those begging eyes. “For me.”

Bastard.

Reluctantly, I take the plate and set it in front of me, making a smile grow on Snow’s face. I can smell the food so much more now that it’s right under my nose. Crowley, did we have to eat steak the one night Snow tries to make me eat. That thing bleeds so much. My fangs aren’t popping yet, but I know they’re close.

I can feel Mordy’s and Daphne’s gazes on me, but I purposely ignore them.

Father still isn’t looking at me.

It gives me some courage. My father’s reaction is always the one I fear the most.

“And Baz,” Snow says, making me raise my head a bit to look at him instead of at the damn food.

He brings his hand to his mouth the way I do, bore his eyes into mine, and slowly puts it down. “Okay?”

Yeah, message received, love. 

I don’t answer that. I don’t know if I’ll be able to what he wants me to. For now, I focus on cutting my meat in small pieces. When I cut in the middle part of the meat, it releases more blood and the sight and smell of it makes my fangs press against my gums.

Fuck they’re so close to popping out. I hate this. 

I finally put my bloodied knife down. My fucking vampire instincts are telling me to bring it to my lips and lick it clean. I want to scream.

I disgust myself.

“Baz,” Snow says again once. Crowley, if he wants me to eat, he should let me fucking try instead of speaking to me.

“What?” I ask shortly. 

He lays his right forearm along the table, his hand laying flat, palm up. Is he really suggesting…

“You don’t need your hand anyway, do you?” he says with one of those stupid smiles that make me want to punch him. Or kiss him.

He’s really determined not to let me hide. I fucking despise him.

No I don’t.

“I think we’ve talked about that too,” I mumble.

I know Daphne and Mordelia are still watching. Aren’t they getting bored of that, by now?

And what is Snow playing at? I told him I didn’t want us to act like a couple in front of my parents.

But when I picked him up at school after my trial, we hugged and Father said nothing.

But Father said he was okay with me dating Snow.

But Father pretty much gave him his blessing -he told me that, I couldn’t believe it.

And Father _isn’t looking at me_.

So maybe I can…

Fuck it.

I let my forearm fall on the table, just like his, and hold his hand. If my father can’t handle seeing me hold my boyfriend’s hand, well _fuck it._ It’s not a bloody crime. And it’s not like we’re fucking on the damn dinner table. 

His skin against mine immediately gives me more confidence.

I feel so much more human when I feel the heat of his body under my fingers. 

Encouragingly, Snow nods to show my plate. “Come on. I know you can do it. Pretend it’s just the both of us.”

Easier said than done.

“Do you want me to take the first bite?” he asks as he takes his fork in his left hand. 

It’s a bit of a strange sight. I know that Snow can use both hands. He told me that when he was trained to handle weapons, particularly his swords, the Mage made him hold the weapons in both hands, which, with time, made him ambidextrous, but he usually only ever uses the right one. Well, except when he can’t use it, like now.

I nod. “Please,” I answer under my breath.

He eats a piece of meat. It seems so easy. It _is_ easy, for a normal person. He can just do that and not have fucking fangs popping out. 

“Your turn, now,” he tells me as his thumb runs along my fingers.

Daphne’s eyes are fixed on me, now. Mordelia is still watching, but not as intensely as her mother. I’m not sure she completely understands how big a deal this is for me. She knows that I never eat with them, so she’s probably simply puzzled as to why I am doing it now.

Before I can give myself time to hesitate, I take a piece of steak on my fork, and brings it to my mouth. The moment it reaches my chin, I feel the pressure of my fangs on my lower lip. I feel my eyes go wide and I try to shoot my hand up to hide them, but Snow is holding on tight. “Go on,” he tells me softly. “It’s okay, Baz.”

My hand shakes when it moves the rest of the way up to my mouth. I open it just enough to slip the meat inside, but I’m pretty sure it still makes my fangs very visible. 

When I can taste the smokey and _bloody_ meat on my tongue, my fangs feel even more present. It tastes so fucking good. I hate that it tastes so good. I hate that I want more.

Blood doesn’t taste like that to normal fucking normal.

Normal fucking people don’t salivate just from having some blood on their fucking tongue.

Normal fucking people’s parents don’t look at them with such surprise and wonder in their eyes just because they fucking _ate._

Parents.

My _parents_ are looking at me.

Not just Daphne.

 _Father_ is looking at me.

He hasn’t laid eyes on me since I came back, and now that my fangs are out he’s fucking looking at me.

He can see them. He can see what I am.

A monster.

A disgusting, bloodthirsty creature.

They can all see it.

They… They can _all_ see it.

Snow.

Daphne.

The little ones.

_Father._

**…**

**Simon**

I see horror wash over Baz’s face. 

Fuck. No. This is not what I fucking intended. This is not how it was supposed to go.

He ate just fine when he was with me! 

He frees his hand from mine, and the next second, he’s standing him from his chair, mumbling a “Excuse me” muffled by his hand pressed against his mouth. And then he’s running out of the room before I can really process what’s happening.

Fuck!

**…**

**Baz**

Next thing I know, I’m bent over the toilet seat, throwing my guts up, my arms and legs shaking so much it’s a miracle I’m holding myself up.

Because my life is a series of disasters, I hear knocking on the door.

“Fuck off, Snow,” I groan before violent retching seize me again.

It’s unfair to talk to him like that, I know it. He had good intentions. It’s not his fault I’m so bloody fucked up.

“It’s not Simon,” I hear the voice behind the door say.

Daphne. 

Crowley I don’t know if it's worse or better than if it was Snow. 

What I do know is that I can’t tell Daphne to fuck off. 

Not that I _could_ say anything at this very moment.

She probably catches up on that, and comes in without asking. I want to resent her for that, I don’t want anyone to fucking see me like that, but her hand feels so comforting on my shoulder. 

And she’s a mum. It’s not like it’s the first time she’s with someone as they vomit. She always sits with the girls and rubs their back when they’re sick like that. 

It’s exactly what she’s doing to me right now.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s okay.”

It takes a few more seconds before my stomach decides it’s done emptying itself and I can only flush the toilet before I let myself fall back, sitting down and bringing my knees against my chest. I’m still trembling, and tears are rolling down my cheeks on their own accord. I lean my forehead on the space between my knees, trying to take deep breaths.

Vampires can’t get _physically_ sick, but somehow my brain hates me enough to make me vomit when it starts overthinking _everything_. It’s not the first time I make myself sick like that in a moment of panic, but it’s still something rather rare, and I hate it so fucking much.

“Are you okay?” Daphne asks, her hand now on my knee.

“Better than ten seconds ago.”

There’s a silence, and then. “Mr Snow wanted to come, you know. When you rushed out of the room, he meant to follow you. I told him not to. I wanted to be with you. I hope you don’t mind. I know you would have preferred it if it was him with you.”

“I wouldn’t… I don’t mind that you came, Mother.”

“Good.” Her hand leaves my knee, and I think it means she’s going to leave, but then I feel both of her hands hold mine instead. 

It makes me raise my head to look at her, a frown on my face. She’s looking at me with her usual tender smile. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you. For at least trying to eat with us. I was… so surprised that you would. But I was really glad when I saw Mr Snow give you a plate. And I know it’s selfish, but I wish you were comfortable enough to share meals with us instead of just watching us eat. I’m sorry if I caused you trouble because I was looking at you like I did. I realize now that I shouldn’t have. I also wanted to say that we don’t mind, Baz. We really don’t. I’m not sure your sisters even noticed. Maybe Mordelia did, but I promise she didn’t think anything bad about it if she did. Neither did I, or your father. We were stunned, but not in a bad way, Baz. It was just a shock to see you try to eat with us after so long.”

“I’m not sure that Father doesn’t mind,” I say with bitterness in my voice.

I can believe that Daphne truly didn’t care about seeing my fangs. I can’t believe that it’s also true for my father.

“But he doesn’t, Baz. He would be enchanted if you ate a meal with us without hiding yourself. We’re your family, honey. You don’t _have_ to hide yourself around us. I wish you didn’t, and it breaks my heart that you think you need do.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice breaking. 

I look down at the floor. I can’t look at her.

Disappointing my father, I’m used to it. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore to know I’m doing something he doesn’t like. But disappointing _Daphne…_ it’s so much worse. 

It’s so hard making that woman have any kind of negative feelings towards you, and yet I’ve somehow managed that too.

Congrats Baz, you’ve reached a whole new level of fucked up. Going to disappoint Snow next time?

“Baz, no! Don’t apologize, you have nothing to apologize for,” Daphne says. “Crowley, I’m the one who has to say sorry. It’s our fault you feel that way, you have nothing to blame yourself for. We should have handled it better, when… when you really turned. We… We saw the signs and we got scared instead of trying to help you so that _you_ wouldn’t feel so scared. It was so wrong of us, so terribly wrong. I’m sorry, I really, really am,” she whispers as she lets go of my hands and move to the side of my knees to put her arms around my shoulders, pulling me as close as she can in this position. Her neck smells like flowers, her perfume, and honey, her blood. “We failed you, Baz. And I could never apologize enough for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are very appreciated ^^ they really motivate me to write and I love reading them :)


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner, part 2  
> Malcolm is *trying*, a round of applause for Malcolm

**Baz**

When I come back to the dining room, Daphne walking next to me, I notice that Father is nowhere to be seen.

So much for not caring about my fangs.

I knew Daphne was wrong about that. It was obvious that he didn’t  _ not  _ care.

The moment he sees me, Snow is looking at me with shame on his face. Crowley, he’s blaming himself, is he? Idiot.

“Baz, I’m so, so, so sorry, I didn’t think… I thought you’d be okay, I…”

“Hush,” I tell him, raising my hand to stop him. “Don’t get too worked up over this. I’m not mad at you. You meant well.”

“But…”

“No ‘but’s Snow,” I say as I sit back on my chair, looking at him in the eyes.

His are full of guilt. I hate it. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty of anything. I’m glad he tried to make me eat with my family, I’d have never had the courage to even take a bite if not for his support. 

I want to say something else to Snow, but I feel a little hand holding mine before I can. I turn to Mordelia. She seems worried “Are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I just got a little bit sick, it’s nothing.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I tell her with a smile. “I’m fine.”

It seems to reassure her. She lets go of my hand, and put it back where it was on the table. Soon enough, she resumes eating. She’s almost done. They’re all almost done, well, the little ones at least. Daphne’s and Father’s plate are still half full, and Snow hasn’t touched his except for the bite he took in front of me.

I’m about to comment on that, it’s really not like him not to eat, but the door leading to the kitchen opening surprises me. My eyes fly there and fall on my father, with a plate in his hands.

That simple sight makes me ask myself so many questions.

Why would he go to the kitchen?

Why would he bring back a plate when he already has one?

The food on the table always gets spelled back to the kitchen when everyone is served not to take up too much space on the dining table, so it’d make sense that he’d go to the kitchen to refill his plate but it  _ isn’t  _ empty. As a matter of fact, it’s still waiting for him on the table. 

Why didn’t he sit when he reached his chair? 

Why is he still walking… Towards me? 

He puts the plate down on the empty space where mine used to be. “I thought… I thought that maybe you could eat with us if there wasn’t any…” he clears his throat. “Blood in your plate, so I cleaned it and I served you a new one without meat in it. I would like it very much if we could all share a meal, but I understand if you’d rather eat in your room,” my father says, visibly uncomfortable. 

When I look up at him, my eyes wide, he simply pats my shoulder and then he’s gone, sitting at the end of the table like he always does.

I can’t believe this.

He  _ saw  _ that my fangs were there, and instead of ignoring it, he went and prepared another plate for me, one that he thought wouldn’t trigger them to pop out. I can even see he separated the carrots and peas that were mixed together in the dish, also keeping them apart from the potatoes, probably because he remembered that when I was little I would only eat one food at a time and hated it when there were several different foods on the same spot in my plate. I still do. Hate that, I mean. It’s ridiculous, really, and rather annoying when I eat with Snow because I’m barely done sorting my food that the fool has almost gulped down his entire plate, but I can’t help it. I like things to be organized, and that applies to my food. 

My father did all of this, serving me while paying attention to my little quirk and very peculiar diet, and he did it because he wants me to eat dinner with them without being uncomfortable.

I could cry. 

It’s pathetic.

“Thank you,” I whisper under my breath, reaching for my fork.

He hasn’t done this for nothing.  _ Snow  _ hasn’t tried for nothing.

I’m going to eat the fucking food.

**…**

**Simon**

I almost sigh in relief when I see Baz eating. I thought I had fucked up really, really, really bad. I probably did, honestly, the meat was a fucking bad idea, but his father had the cleverness  _ not  _ to serve him meat so now he can eat without too much trouble. His fangs don’t usually pop when he isn’t eating something that smells or taste of blood, but it still happens sometimes so I keep my eyes on his lips, just in case his fangs decide to act up, as I start eating too. 

My food has turned cold after all that time, but I don’t really care.

How could I care about something like that when Baz is  _ eating in front of his family _ , after having some sort of panic attack over it nonetheless. He’s making such efforts, I’m so proud of him.

**…**

**Baz**

After finishing my plate, I bring it back to the kitchen. Snow has already done so with his, and started eating dessert because I told him not to wait for me to do so. The truth is I knew I’d needed a few seconds to myself after eating, and that Snow’s presence in the kitchen at the same time as me when I went and put my plate in the dishwasher -I don’t have my wand on me, and I know that’s how they usually clean their plates, instead of using spells- wouldn’t help.

I eat an entire plate of food while being around the same table as my parents and sisters. And Snow, but he doesn’t count, he’s seen me eat before. 

I haven’t done that since I was 15.

But today I’ve done it. And apart from the complete state of panic that my fangs popping out cause me, it went well. That means I  _ can  _ eat with my family if I’m careful about what I put on my plate.

That’s bloody fantastic news.

I feel a stupid smile growing on my face. I try to bite it back.

I ate with my family. I can have meals with my parents and sisters in the dining room and not just watch them eat and then eat all alone in my room.

That’s one step closer to being a normal fucking person. I can’t consume anything that may have blood in it without turning into a monster, but let’s ignore that part for now. 

I’m so fucking happy.

It’s so mundane, and probably something that could seem like chore to a lot of other people my age -I know that Dev hates that he has to be with his family for every meal- but it’s something I’ve been too afraid of doing for the past two years.

It makes you feel very lonely, being excluded from even something as simple as having lunch or dinner. Being there, but not really  _ there _ , because you’re not eating, just watching.

It’s what being around normal people feels like, I think a bit bitterly.

No. No time for bitterness. This is a victory. I’m not going to ruin it by overthinking. Let’s get in Snow mode and stop thinking about the bad things.

Snow. Merlin, it’s all thanks to him. 

He’s been trying so hard to make me feel more comfortable with my vampirism. Eating with him at the restaurant was the biggest step for me, because he could see my fangs the whole time and it was not in a context where I knew he was too far gone to really care like when we’re having sex, but there are other things to. He doesn’t let me talk badly about it. Whenever I start saying the word “monster” he glares at me. He told me times and times again that he was sorry for how he treated my being a vampire before, and how wrong he was to do so. He asked me if he could come with me to the Catacombs when I fed. That’s where I drew the line. That’s an effort I’m not sure I can make now. I still disgust myself so much every time I feed, there’s no way he wouldn’t be disgusted too. But he still asked. Because I’m sure he knows how I feel about it and he wants me to see that it’s maybe not as big of a deal as I think, just like the fangs. And technically he  _ has  _ seen a vampire feed before, on his mission when he was watching Emmeline Hale, and it didn’t seem to be something that turned his stomach so maybe,  _ maybe  _ it’s really not that awful, but it still feels awful.

And here I am again, overthinking.

Crowley how does Snow turn off his brain?

I shake that thought,  _ all thoughts _ , and head back to the dining room, hoping Snow is done with his dessert. I want to hold him against me and tell him how grateful I am for what he’s done for me tonight and I can’t do that if we’re still in the dining room.

Today must be my lucky day, because on my way out of the kitchen, we cross paths as he comes here to throw the pot of his yogurt. 

Well I suppose I won’t leave the kitchen, then. 

He grabs me by the waist, pinning me against the wall. We’re right next to the door. If someone decides to come, there’s no way they won’t see us. 

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” he asks, looking at me straight in the eyes.

“I told you I wasn’t, Snow. You just wanted to do something nice for me, you couldn’t predict my reaction. It’s not your fault I made myself sick. Don’t worry about that. If anything, I’m grateful that you did. But I’m certainly not angry. Okay, love?”

He nods, and then his gaze goes down from my eyes to my lips. His grip on my waist tightens. “I want to kiss you,” he whispers.

“We’re in the kitchen,” I answer, trying to keep my own eyes away from  _ his  _ lips.

But then he licks them and I can’t help but look. “Who cares?” they articulate, quirking up a little bit.

“I care.”

“No you don’t. You’d have pushed me away if you really did.”

The worst part is that he’s right. That fucking nightmare. 

I’m so weak when it comes to him, it’s pathetic.

“Come on baby, just a kiss.” 

As he says it, he gets on his tiptoes so that his lips are on the same level as mine, and he ‘loses balance’ so that his chest is completely pressed against me. He’s a demon.

“Just a kiss…” he repeats, and then I don’t hold back anymore. My lips are on his, moving with them.

I like when we snog like crazy, but I like slow kisses like that too. It’s soft. Tender.  _ Loving.  _

When he pulls back, a grin on his face, I just want to kiss him more. 

I can’t believe there was a time when I didn’t get to kiss Simon Snow this often. It seems impossible, now. Kissing him feels like inhaling air. It’s natural. It makes me feel alive. 

I thought he was going to let me go now, to go throw his bloody yogurt, but instead, he tilts his head slightly, his breath on the side of my neck, under my ear. “Go wait for me in your room, will you?” He presses a kiss on my jaw, and then he’s gone, walking towards the bin. 

This boy will be the death of me.

I wonder what he wants to do alone in the kitchen, but it’s better not to question Snow’s actions. It usually makes my head hurt trying to figure out what goes on in his. 

So I go too, though not in the same direction as him. I don’t leave the kitchen by the door that leads to the dining room, though. I don’t want to have to make eye contact with any of my family members right now. I know that it’s silly and that there’s no way they saw us kissing, we were behind the bloody wall, but they might have seen the moment when Snow, this absolute brute, pushed me against the bloody wall.

**…**

Snow walks in my room with a tray. On it, I can see two steaming cups and a bowl that seems to have biscuits in it. 

“You didn’t have dessert,” he explains when he sees me looking at him curiously, a sheepish smile on his face.

“So you brought some for us.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s sweet, thank you,” I tell him, tenderness in my voice.

He puts the tray down on the cupboard the closest to my bed, and takes one of the cups and the bowl. He carefully brings them to me, paying attention not to spill liquid on the floor or the bedsheets. “Hot chocolate,” he says when I take the cup. “And that’s just the first biscuits I could find and uh, there was a bar of chocolate,  _ dark  _ chocolate, that was partly used already so I just cut it in pieces and added that with the biscuits, you know, since you love chocolate.”

I simply nod as I thank. He goes and get his own cup, and then he’s sitting next to me, not losing any time before he snuggles against my side, trying to get me to put my arm around him. “Come on, you don’t need your right arm,” he whines when I purposely keep my arm to myself.

He’s like a puppy rubbing its head against someone’s leg to get patted and scratches on the head. It’s adorable.

“You don’t need your left arm either.  _ You  _ could hold me.”

So he does. Immediately, his arm is around my shoulders, his hand holding the biceps of my left arm. I turn my head at him, smile, and then I’m hooking my arm around his middle, pulling him close. “Happy, now?” I ask, a bit teasingly.

“Very. Now stop being annoying and tell me if my hot chocolate is good.”

“So bossy,” I say with a smirk as I bring the cup to my lips. It doesn’t smell exactly like hot chocolate. There’s something else in this, I’m sure.

“As if you didn’t like it when I’m  _ bossy _ ,” Snow shoots back, making me choke on the fucking hot chocolate. Cinnamon. That’s what he added. I could taste that much before he made me practically spit the mouthful I had taken out.

“Aleister Crowley, Snow, not when I’m drinking.”

The bastard just laughs, which makes him spill some of his hot chocolate on the sheets. Merlin and Morgana. 

“Oh shit!” he exclaims when he realizes, doing his best to put the cup down on the bedside table without spilling any more. 

“It’s okay, a cleaning spell and it’s gone,” I tell him as I put my own cup down. The bowl is resting on my thighs, and I’m not as clumsy as Snow, so it can stay there. I reach for my wand, and quickly after I cast the spell, the dark, wet spots are gone. 

Snow touches the part of the sheets where they used to be, probably making sure that they really disappeared, and I know for sure that his hand can only feel the softness of the material.

“Magic really is great, uh,” he says. 

“It’s quite useful. It makes life easier, being able to cast a spell for little inconveniences like that. I wish I could cast spells on big inconveniences,” I tell him, pointing my wand at him.

“If I was such an inconvenience to you, You wouldn’t still be cuddling me, Pitch. Put that thing away.” He pushes my wand out of his face as he says that. 

“Excuse you, I’m not cuddling you, you’re clinging to me like the annoying person you are,” I say as I do put my wand away, taking back the hot chocolate he made me. 

“Sure, sure.”

He watches me swallow some of the drink down, while his is still on the bedside table.

“Hey, that’s good. Who knew you could make hot chocolate. Why the cinnamon, though?”

“That’s how we did it at Agatha’s. I went there for Christmas, you know, so we were alway putting cinnamon in everything,” he says with a small smile. Before, I thought it’d make me jealous to see Snow remember things he did with Wellbelove so fondly, but the truth is I don’t  _ really  _ get jealous. I know from what he tells me that he does much more things with me than he did with her, and I’m not only only talking about sex. Besides, he told me he loved her like a friend, and I know that Snow wouldn’t be the kind to date me while still being in love with his ex. If he’s with me, it’s that he really wants to be with  _ me  _ not her. The voice in my head sometimes disagrees with that, but the voice in my head wants me to hate and doubt every single aspect of my life so I tone it down sometimes, about certain things.

“You can take your cup, you know. I could always spell the sheets clean again if you’re still not capable of holding a cup in your hand without spilling half of its content.”

He rolls his eyes, but he does reach for his cup. 

Once he’s settled back against me, he says “First of all, fuck off. Second of all, I didn’t mean to dirty your sheets. I mean, I didn’t mean to dirty them with  _ hot chocolate _ , that is,” he adds, and I can almost hear the flirtatious smile in his voice.

“We’re not shagging now.”

“You already said that this morning!”

“You’re an animal, Snow. You fucked me three times last night.  _ Three _ . Give me a rest.”

If he  _ really  _ wanted to fuck, I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind  _ at all _ . It’s just funny making him work for it. And if he decides not to work for it, well, I’m just as fine with just cuddling in bed.

“You say that like you didn’t like it,” he mutters, nudging my side.

“Oh, I did like it,” I tell him, hiding the smile on my lips with my cup, though he can’t see my face. “My ability to sit without any discomfort didn’t, though.”

The shakiness of his laugh vibrates on my shoulder, where his lips are pressed against it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have started writing tomorrow’s chapter tonight bc I had some time but then I wrote a ridiculously long tumblr post about why Baz needs therapy instead, I regret nothing


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz channels his inner Regina George, Simon gets his nails done, Baz isn’t allowed to drive at night, and they talk about getting hate crimed

**Simon**

“Snow, we’re going shopping,” Baz says as he walks in the living room.

I crane my neck to look at him, paying attention not to move my hands -I wouldn’t want Mordelia to scold me. She’s decided she wanted to paint my nails and since I can’t say no to cute little kids, here I am, sitting on the floor, Baz’s sister applying purple -her favourite colour- nail polish on my nails.

“I’m a bit busy right now if you can’t tell,” I tell Baz with a smile as I let my eyes wander up and down his body.

I didn’t see him after lunch -he gets lazy about dressing up sometimes so he just puts on _my_ trackies until he feels like wearing nice clothes, usually in the afternoon- so I didn’t see how he was dressed, but of course, he looks gorgeous. Dark blue jeans, snug just in the right places. A white shirt, but not the kind we wear for school, those flowy ones that are super soft to the touch that Baz loves, with the top two buttons open, as always. It’s so simple compared to how extra his outfits can be sometimes, but he still makes it look fancy, though casual. Especially with his wand in his hair like that. He keeps telling me that I have to be careful with my wand but I’ve seen him use it to hold his hair back a couple of times. I don’t even understand how he can make his hair stay put with just a stick in it like that, but it’s Baz, he’s got skills with his hands I definitely don’t have. 

He cocks an eyebrow. “We _are_ going shopping, it wasn’t a question. I’m sick of seeing you in my clothes.”

“I thought you liked me in your clothes.”

He gives me a small smile. “You’re a lovely sight in my clothes, Snow, but I’d rather it being an occasional thing. I want you to have your own clothes. Clothes that actually fit you. Mine are too long on you.”

“If you say that it’s because I’m too short I swear to Merlin…”

He just smirks and that smirk alone speaks more than words. 

“You’re a bastard.”

“You have to put a note in the jar,” Mordelia says in a sing-song voice. 

I hear Baz scoff as I look back to Mordelia. Her eyes are still fixed on my hands, but she has a grin on her face.

Her bloody jar.

I have come to the realization that in spite of my best efforts, I can’t keep insults off my mouth when I’m talking to Baz. He used to tell me off every time I called him something bad in front of the kids, and Mordelia has caught up on that so she decided to start the jar. Every time I insult Baz, I have to write a nice note about him and put it in the jar to apologize.

I wanted to say it was a silly idea when she first brought me that jar because when I insult Baz I’m not really _insulting_ him anymore, but of course, for Mordelia, when I say that Baz is a bastard, I’m being mean to him. And since I don’t want to be the one who makes insults lose their meaning for Baz’s siblings -if they start going around saying swear words because they think it’s not bad, it’ll be my fault- I play along. It’s not like it’s a chore thinking of a nice thing about Baz anyway.

No really, the annoying part about all of this is that the bastard said that at the end of the week he’d make Mordelia read them “She needs to practice her reading” he said. That’s a pity, I would have written dirty stuff on the notes otherwise. I can’t quite tell him he looks beautiful when he comes on a piece of paper his 7-year-old sister is going to read, can I?

From the corner of my eye, I see Baz crouching on my left side. “Yeah Snow, put a note in the jar,” he says, clearly taking the piss out of me.

I feel his hand on the small of my back and suddenly I don’t mind that he’s making fun of me that much.

He’s a bit more inclined to touching me when we’re downstairs if it’s just the little ones around us. He doesn’t mind holding my hand or putting his hand on my thigh, waist or back when we’re with the girls.

I love it.

He still doesn’t kiss me, which makes the days _very_ long because we stay downstairs most of the times, but I always find a way to steal kisses behind a wall or the shelves in the library -those people have a _library_ as big as the one at Watford in their _house_.

“I will put a note in the jar,” I answer, rolling my eyes.

“What are you going to write?” 

“He can’t tell you that!” Mordy chimes in. “We said we’d read them at the end of the week you can’t know what’s on them before that.”

“That’s right sweetheart,” I tell her, giving her a thumbs up with the hand she isn’t busy with. “Let your sister finish my nails and I’m good to go, okay love?”

Mordelia giggles when I call Baz “love”. I’m pretty sure he’d blush if he could. 

“Yeah. I have to go fix my hair anyway. Should I wear it up or let it down, what do you think?”

“You look good either way.”

“Not what I’m asking,” he says as he stands up. “Come on Snow, be useful for once. What do I do with my hair?”

If someone told me a few weeks ago that Baz Pitch would ask my opinion on how he should wear his hair, I’d have laughed in their face. But here I am, trying to think of what would look better. Baz takes his hair very seriously, I have to give him a good answer.

“I’m thinking maybe you could tie it like you do when you’re doing homework and stuff? Kind of like what you already have going on right now but, you know, with a hair tie and not your wand.”

He hums. “Thanks, I’ll do that. If you’re done before I am, come meet me in my room, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, looking over my shoulder to shoot him a smile. 

He smiles back.

That’s something he’s been doing a lot more too. Smiling. I think he was a bit shy at first, and he didn’t really want to smile too much, but now I feel like he just smiles when he feels like it. I love it. He’s got such a beautiful smile. Everything about him is beautiful.

Maybe I should write my note for the jar about his smile.

**…**

Golden jewelry was invented for Baz Pitch.

He’s decided to not only fix his hair, but also to wear some jewelry, probably because he thought his outfit looked too plain. He has two necklaces on, both the exact same shade of golden. The longest one disappears under his shirt, and the shortest one has a round pendant that looks gorgeous against his pale skin. There seems to be something on the pendant but I can’t see it from here. He has also put on a bracelet on his left arm, a thin, delicate thing with a plate on it -probably a name plate. Agatha has one of those too. It has her first name carved on one side and her birth date on the other side.

It all looks so damn good.

He ended up being done before me -Mordelia insisted she had to add glittery nail polish over the purple one, so it took more time than it should have. Baz sat on the sofa as his sister finished, and right after she put the last stroke of the brush, he was casting a spell on my nails to make them dry immediately. 

“It looks pretty, doesn’t it,” Mordelia said.

“It does. You did a good job Mordy, thank you.”

She gave me a smile and then pushed herself up on her feet. She kissed my cheek as she passed by, saying “Bye bye boys! Have fun shopping.” when she hopped out of the room.

“She’s adorable,” I told Baz the moment she was out of sight.

“She is, indeed. I didn’t think she’d be adorable enough for you to let her paint your nails though,” he says as he stands from the sofa.

I stand too. “Well, I don’t mind the nail polish, really. It’s quite cute. I mean I’m not a fan of the purple but I kind of like having something on my nails, actually,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn.

Baz told me he wore makeup, I don’t think he’d make fun of me for liking nail polish, but still…

“You’re right, the colour isn’t the best on you but it looks lovely. And it kept both you and Mordelia from bothering me while I was with the twins which is a rather good thing.”

“Oh, hush. I don’t bother you that much.”

“Yes you do. You’re even worse than the children, Snow,” he says with a smirk as we walk out of the living room, on our way to the entrance hall.

“Sure, whatever. What did you do with Ophelia and Cordelia today?”

He bends down to put his shoes on. I sit on the floor. 

“I showed them one of those tiny books for toddlers Daphne bought, one with animals on it. I made them tell me what the animals were, told them when they didn’t know, and then I read them the actual story of the book. Cordelia really loves cats. She got excited whenever she saw one,” he explains as he slips one of his feet in his shoe and start tying it.

While he does that, I’m already done tying mine. I don’t take my time like Baz. I can be in bed and then be up, dressed with shoes and a coat on and my wand up my sleeve in 5 minutes tops. 

Baz looks like he hasn’t had to speed up for anything in his life. He eats slowly. He spends forever in the shower. He takes his time putting clothes and shoes on. 

When I push myself back up, I give his arse a smack. It makes him snort. “Aleister Crowley, Snow,” he says as he start working on his second shoe. 

“No one’s around, I can touch you,” I shoot back, a smile in my voice.

“Honestly Snow I’m surprised at your inability to keep your hands to yourself,” Baz says as he straightens his back, reaching for his coat. That long, black coat of him, of course. Dramatic git. “You didn’t seem to be like that with Wellbelove.”

I put on my own coat, the one from school. The only one I have. Well, the only one I have _now_ I suppose, Baz will probably want to get me one.

“Well, Aggie and I didn’t have the same relationship you and I have,” I tell him.

I didn’t want to touch Agatha all the time. I liked it when we held hands and it felt nice kissing, but I didn’t mind _not_ doing it. With Baz… I feel like I need to have my hands on him, somehow. I feel… better, calmer, when I can feel his cold skin or the silk of his hair, or the soft material of his ridiculously posh clothes under my fingers. Just to feel _him_ here near me, it’s… it feels good.

“So you didn’t smack Wellbelove’s arse when she bent down?”

I laugh at that. “I certainly did not smack her arse, ever.”

“Crowley, I’d say your sex life must have been boring but then I remember you didn’t have a sex life with her,” he says with a cocky smile as he reaches for the keys to his car.

“Lucky for you. Maybe you’re actually terrible in bed and I just don’t realize it because I have nothing to compare it to,” I tease him.

His smile gets even bigger as he leans to whisper in my ear “If I was so bad in bed you wouldn’t moan my name as much as you do, would you? _Baz, Baz,_ _Holy fuck Baz you feel so good,_ ” he says, trying to mimick how I sound when we fuck.

I’m pretty sure my whole face turns red. Fucking arsehole.

“Mother! We’re going to town,” he then yells as if he didn’t just tell me _that._

He’s so good at keeping his cool.

“Drive safely and be back before sunset.” Daphne answers, and quickly enough, I see her head poking out of the door of the library. 

She was there with Baz, the twins and the baby. 

“Sunset is rather soon, can’t we stay a bit longer?” Baz asks.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want you driving at night. Please come back before sunset or go tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Goodbye Mother.”

“Goodbye boys,” she tells us with a small smile before disappearing inside the room again.

I wait until we’re in the car to ask “Why doesn’t Daphne want you to drive at night? Besides you _did_ drive at night the other day so what’s the big deal?”

**…**

**Baz**

I’ve already lied to him about this once. I’m not sure I want to do it twice. But if I talk to him about it…

I have to tell him the rest.

I know I won’t be able to stop if I start.

It’ll be all or nothing.

**…**

**Simon**

I see him tapping his fingers on the wheel instead of turning the key to turn the engine on, thinking. It looks like whatever it is he’s thinking about is troubling him. 

He gulps loudly, and then “The only reason why I _could_ drive late the other day without Daphne berating me is because she doesn’t know that I have. Father probably told her I was picking you up, but I’m sure both assumed we’d go back to school shortly after. As for why she doesn’t want me to... It’s complicated. I… I’ll tell you tonight.”

What can be so ‘complicated’ about his mum not wanting him to drive when it’s dark?

“Why not now?”

“Because _not now_ ,” he answers shortly, before snapping out of this weird mood and turning the key.

**…**

**Baz**

“Baz _come on_ we have enough,” he whines as I drag him inside a third shop.

You’d think I’m torturing him.

“No we don’t. Two pairs of jeans, a couple of t-shirts and a coat is _far_ from enough, Snow. You need jumpers. Buttons down. Long sleeved t-shirts. At the very least one suit. Shoes that aren’t trainers.”

“I most definitely don’t need all of that.”

“Yes you do! I know you run hot but you need clothes to keep you warm in the winter. Between the miniature furnace that is your body and the weather of this bloody country, I think the weather still wins.”

“But why the suit,” he groans. “I hate dress pants, they’re so uncomfortable,” Snow groans as I look through the racks and piles of clothes to see if I see anything good.

“You have to have some sort of formalwear, Snow. You’re going to spend Christmas with my family, won’t you? You _can’t_ show up at Christmas dinner in jeans. Besides, we have the leavers ball at the end of the year. You’d have needed to buy a suit for that, anyway.”

“Oh because you’re taking me to the leavers ball,” he asks excitedly, his bad mood seemingly gone just at the mention of the ball.

He’s a nightmare.

“No, I’m taking my other boyfriend. _Of course_ I’m taking you to the leavers ball, you moron.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be seen in public with me,” he says a bit bitterly.

Crowley. 

“Merlin, Snow, why do you always misinterpret what I say,” I tell him, making sure not to sound annoyed or angry. Because I’m _not_ annoyed or angry. Just sad that he thinks that, and even more that he thinks that and didn’t bring it up before. “I told you I didn’t want people at school to know. It’s not the same thing as not wanting to be seen in public with you. I just… Well I’d like to be able to go to school in peace without risking getting hate crimed.” I’m the one who sounds bitter now. “You don’t know how present homophobia is in the World of Mages, even among younger generations like ours. I don’t blame you for that, you had no idea you liked blokes before you got together with me, you didn’t have to pay attention to that. But _I_ have known I was gay since I was 15. I’ve seen things. It wouldn’t be a good idea for us to be a couple publicly at school. I… The leavers ball, it’s just one night and then we leave that place forever. I can deal with slurs for one night. I don’t want to hear them every day _until_ that night. Besides, I’m on the football team, Snow. Do you think my teammates would appreciate it if they found out there has been a gay bloke in the same changing room as them for years? I can almost hear you say ‘But Dev’, well Dev and Niall aren’t out either, are they? Would you have known they were a couple if I didn’t tell you? And Bunce’s little roommate, would you know she has a girlfriend if Bunce didn’t complain about it? Have you ever seen a gay couple holding hands in the corridors the way other couples do? No you haven’t, and it’s _not_ because there aren’t any queer people at school. It’s because they’re _scared_ , Snow. And honestly, I am too. I’m not exactly the most straight looking bloke with my long hair and my manners. It’s a miracle no one’s called me a faggot already, just because of how I look and act.”

It’s more than I wanted to say.

It’s more than I thought I was going to say.

It’s more than I needed to say.

But I had to burst Snow’s little bubble. He doesn’t see bad things until you point them out to him, he’s so positive and naive.

I see his eyes fill with shock, and then sadness as I speak. 

**…**

**Simon**

Fuck, I didn’t know any of that.

Is it really that bad? It probably is, if Baz says it is. It’s true, after all. I know for sure that there are two gay couples at school and I’ve never seen them acting like anything else than friends. 

I feel terrible for being upset by his not wanting to be public about our relationship, now.

“Baz, I’m sorry, I… You’re right, I didn’t realize,” he says, sheepishly.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he tells me with that voice that’s a bit sweeter than usual that he only uses when he’s trying to comfort me about something. “I know you didn’t realize. But now you know, so you know that I don’t want to keep the fact that we’re a couple to ourselves because I’m ashamed of you or whatever stupid reason you’ve made up in your brain. I’m incredibly happy to be in a relationship with you, Simon, I just don’t want it to ruin our lives just now. I don’t love you any less because I don’t hold your hand at school. Come on now, enough of this. Let’s get back to the task at hand or we won’t be done when we have to leave,” he says, tugging on my sleeve, the corner of his lips quirked up.

Damn him and those bloody clothes he wants to get.

**…**

We spend a million years in that shop, Baz, this monster, making me try on at least forty items of clothing and I’m _not_ exaggerating. At least we get out of here with most of what Baz thinks I need. In truth, there are only the suits left to buy, which is why we’re walking to another shop on the same floor that sells formalwear. 

“I can’t wait to see you in a suit,” he says as enter the shop.

It looks way too fancy. The walls and the floor are all white, with bright lights and racks of clothes everywhere. 

When we walk close to one, I check the price of a jacket. £200. 

Fucking Merlin.

“Baz, we’re not shopping here.”

“Why not?” he asks, turning at me.

“It’s too expensive. The clothes you’ve bought so far already cost too much. I fucking told you I didn’t want you to spent a lot of money for me.”

“Hey, Snow, calm down ok?” he says, putting his hand on my elbow, and squeezing it before letting go. “Yes, of course, what we bought cost a lot of money, but have you seen all the items we have? It’s normal that it cost that much. If it was up to me, it’d have cost _much more_ . It’s fine, really. And it’s something that you actually _need_ , it’s not like I’m buying things just to buy things.”

His words just piss me off more. “I don’t _need_ a suit that costs that much! Crowley can’t you understand that I’m not comfortable with… that. You spending your money to buy me things. I… I don’t want to feel like I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“I _know_. But I feel like I do. Let’s just not buy the suit, Baz, the clothes, it was already more than enough,” I say, holding his arm to make him follow me outside.

He doesn’t move, though. Instead, he looks at me like he just had an epiphany. “And if the suit is something for me?” he says.

“What?”

“Well, the clothes were for you. Because you needed them. If it makes you feel better about it, you can consider them late birthday and Christmas presents. I haven’t given you any presents for 7 years, after all. I have some catching up to do. So the clothes are your presents I couldn’t give you all those years. And the suit is a present from me, to me, because I want to be able to check you out while you’re wearing a suit,” he says with a grin, like he’s very proud of his little plan.

It makes me smile too. 

I’m still uncomfortable about how much money he spent, but at least he’s trying to understand. To make me feel better about it. He isn’t going full rich kid mode, telling me that it’s _nothing_ . I never had more than fifty quid on me, so what the clothes cost, it’s not _nothing_ for me. When the cashier in the last shop told us the amount Baz had to pay, I almost fainted. And the fucker just took his credit card out and paid.

“So, do we have a deal? I have spotted a grey suit that I’m sure would look lovely on you.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. But you’re only buying one suit and if it’s over £350 don’t even _try_ to make me put that thing on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so scared about writing the next chapter because I’m finally making them t a l k about something something that I’ve hinted at a couple of times and I’m afraid not to be satisfied by that chapter bc I have so many versions of it in my head and no idea which to choose *sigh*


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz reveals secrets to Simon  
> The chapter is pretty much just Baz talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!!!
> 
> mentions of self-harm and suicide attempt 
> 
> If those are topics that might trigger you or that you’re sensitive to I suggest you skip this chapter
> 
> I’m so anxious about this chapter help  
> *posts chapter and goes hide*

**REMINDER TO BEWARE OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS**

**Simon**

Baz didn’t eat tonight. He said he wasn’t hungry. It’s not unlike him at all to skip meals but I hate it when he does. It’s not like he’s an example of good health, you know? It can’t be doing him any good. But he did look a bit sick, which is strange, vampires don’t get sick, so I let it slide. 

I’m starting to understand that it’s because he’s troubled now that we’re back in his room ; he tried to cast a spell on my clothes for them to fill one of the many cupboards that aren’t used and he messed up the spell. Baz _never_ messes up his spells.

I see him getting frustrated at the pile of clothes that ended up on the floor in front of the cupboard and not _in_ the cupboard, and I put my hand on his arm. “It’s fine, love, it’s just a spell. I can tidy up the clothes by myself if you don’t want to try spelling them again.”

“No, no, no, we’re not wasting time on that,” he says, clearing his throat to cast the spell again.

He focuses, and this time, when he says the words, it works. Satisfied, he tosses his wand on the bed before heading there to climb on it. “Come here, Snow,” he says as he lies down, patting the space next to him.

I don’t need to be told twice. 

Quickly enough, I’m lying next to him and he shifts until he can rest his head on my chest, where my heart is, one of his legs making its way between mine and his arms across my stomach. On its own accord, my hand gets lost in his hair, playing with it. 

“I have to tell you something,” Baz says out of the blue. His voice sounds serious. It makes my hand stop moving.

“What?” I ask, hesitating.

“It’s… It’s a big something, actually. And it’s going to take some time.”

“Baz, you’re scaring me.”

He doesn’t tell me not to worry.

“Baz, look at me.”

“No. Why do you think I’m lying like that?” he sneers. “I can’t… I can’t do this if I’m looking at you. I don’t _want_ to be doing this, but I have to. It’s important. I… It’s… You asked me why I’m not allowed to lock my door, or why Daphne doesn’t want me to drive at night. Well, I didn’t exactly tell the truth about that. There’s _a lot_ I haven’t told you, and it’s… difficult. But it’s something that my family knows and that Dev and Niall know, and that I think you should know. I don’t want to be keeping this from you anymore. I… I mean, in a way I do because I quite like you not seeing how much of a fuck up I am, but it feels like lying to you and I hate that. So... uh, I’m just… I’m just going to talk until I run out of things to say, okay? Please don’t interrupt me, and if you have questions keep them for when I’m done speaking. I want to get this done once and for all and I won’t be able to if you keep interrupting me.”

Fuck, what could he possibly have to tell me that’s make him to anxious? Baz doesn’t ramble or trip on his words like that. And he hasn’t even started really talking about whatever he wants to say… Merlin.

“Okay love, I’m listening,” I say, making my voice encouraging even though I’m freaking the fuck out, resuming my ministrations on his hair. I know that he likes that, me touching his hair. It makes him relax.

**…**

**Baz**

So here we are.

I take a deep breath, and then…

**…**

**Simon**

“I’m not sure where to start, but… yeah, that seems to be a good point to start. Okay. Yeah. So. You know how you only really started suspecting me of being a vampire in fifth year? Well, that’s because it all truly started the summer before fifth year. The bloodlust. I… I was turned when I was five, that’s when my skin became this pale and my heartbeat slowed down, but I didn’t really suffer from any of the actual effects of my vampirism until I was fifteen. Fiona told me that Father and her thought it would happen right when I hit puberty, but it took a while longer. Anyway, so it happened during the summer, thank Merlin. If the bloodlust had first hit when I was at school… it would have been a disaster. And it was… it was so… sudden. There were no signs. Someday I woke up and I was so _hungry_ , hungrier than I’d ever been and… and… We had a dog, back then, you know? We adopted him when I was eight, not long before Daphne moved in here. Looking back, it was probably just my father trying to coax me before he introduced me to his girlfriend, but back then, I was just excited to have a dog. He was a golden retriever, and the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I called him Simba because I was obsessed with the Lion King when I was little. I was obsessed with that dog too. I… I was a lonely kid, and he became my friend. A friend that was _always_ with me. Even at night, he’d sleep in my room with me. In my bed. It drove Vera mad because there was always dog hair on my bed sheets. And then… Then when the bloodlust hit… I was so hungry… I didn’t know it then, but it was the _thirsty_ kind of hungry, and I… he was there and… and… I didn’t want to. I didn’t fucking want to but I couldn’t… I couldn’t control myself, I couldn’t stop.”

He’s keeping his voice steady but I can hear a sob at the end of his rant. I breaks my heart. What he’s saying is breaking my heart. 

His first real experience as a vampire was biting his dog that he loved. It turns my stomach. I think I’m starting to see why his vampirism is such an issue for him.

He told me not to interrupt him, so I don’t, instead, I just let my free hand slide down the bed until it meets Baz’s on my stomach, and I squeeze his fingers.

It takes him a few seconds before he can talk again. “So that was when my vampirism really started to be an issue for me. When I had to start feeding and be careful around people. When my fangs started being uncontrollable. When my father started looking at me differently. And then, well I went back to school, and my dear roommate spent the whole year stalking me and trying to prove that I was the monster he thought I was.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Baz, I had no idea…”

“I said no talking,” he interrupts me, digging his knee in my thigh. “And don’t apologize. I don’t want your apologies. Merlin, if we started apologizing for all of the hurt we’ve caused the other over the years, we’d never stop. Consider yourself forgiven, for everything.”

He tilts his head to kiss my stomach, over the fabric of my shirt. “Now hush, Snow. Let me continue before I chicken out.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m shutting up now.”

“Fucking finally,” he says, laughter in his voice. Then he becomes serious again. “So as I was saying, I didn’t deal well _at all_ with my vampirism, but it wasn’t the only thing I had going on this year… No, on top of that I _had_ to face the realization that I was in love with my stalker of a roommate. Do you have any idea how much it messes up with your brain, understanding that you’re in love with a _boy,_ a boy that you thought you hated, who hates you, and who on top of that has the perfect fucking girlfriend? A boy you share a room with, a boy that you can't avoid because he’s always there somewhere. I… I tried to distance myself from you because it fucking hurt just _seeing_ you, but I couldn’t get some fucking peace because you followed me _everywhere_ even in the fucking Catacombs. You know what’s funny about that? The one time you actually caught me there, was one of the times when I just got down there to cry and get drunk, not when I did so to feed. That’s something I did a lot, back then. Cry and get drunk, I mean. Alcohol… well let’s just say that when I drank a lot of it, I was too far gone to think about the things that hurt. Do you remember that one week when I didn’t sleep in our room? That’s because Niall and Dev were starting to be very worried about me and they wanted to help me get a grip on myself. Dev took away all of my alcohol, Niall did his best to keep me away from you. And it was just a week, you know, but it helped me get a grip on myself. If I could do it for a week, I could do it for one more. And one more. And one more. I still cried a lot, because I still had as much shit on my mind as before, but at least I wasn’t trying to drown the pain in vodka anymore, so it was a big improvement nonetheless.” 

He chuckles when he says that, as if he’s talking about something _funny_ and not the fact that he used to drink until he couldn’t think clearly. 

Fuck I had no idea fifth year had been this rough for Baz. If I’d known… 

But I didn’t.

“So yeah, that was fifth year,” he says with a sigh. “Definitely not a fun time for me. But the worst… It came after. During the summer between fifth and sixth year.”

The worst? It gets _worse?_ Jesus Christ.

He shifts, trying to find a better position ; he’s been lying on his arm the whole time. Once he’s comfortable, he continues. “That’s when I came out to my family. Me being gay… it’s not something I wanted to keep a secret. I had to get it out. It weighed on me too much, not to know how they’d react, so the logical solution appeared to be to tell them. That way I’d know for sure how they’d take it. I started with Fiona because I knew that she’d be okay with it. She’s cool, Fiona, she doesn’t care about stuff like that. She was just glad I told her. She also didn’t make a big deal out of it, while still being supportive, which is nice. Then she just started me pestering me with questions about a potential boyfriend the way she used to about a potential girlfriend. The difficult part… it was telling my father. I knew he wouldn’t be okay with it like Fiona was. I… I was scared he’d stop loving me. Or that he’d kick me out. I was bloody terrified on the day I told him and Daphne. But well, as you can see, he didn’t kick me out, so you know, it could have been worse. But he… he didn’t want to believe it. He pretended I’d never say anything, or he just didn’t _care_ that I’d say anything. He made me have lunch with him, a girl and her parents on several occasions. Probably trying to turn me straight or something. It felt fucking _awful._ It went on for the entire summer. Every day, I felt more and more disgusted with my vampirism, with my sexuality, with _myself_ , until one day it was just too much. I felt… trapped. I thought the problem was being at the manor, so I… I tried to go. It was night, the girls were in bed, and Daphne and Father were in the blue lounge, so I could go downstairs and steal the keys to my father’s car without anyone noticing. But the thing… I hadn’t been taught how to drive yet, and it was dark and raining, and quickly enough I was crying, so of course, it didn’t go well. The car skidded on the wet road and crashed on a tree.”

I can’t help it, I gasp at that, my hands clenching around his hair and fingers. 

“I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. You can imagine the damage. I’m pretty sure I only survived because my parents must have heard me driving the car away and they followed with Daphne’s car. I don’t remember much, honestly. I remember… feelings. Impressions. I remember shock and blood and pain and thinking I was going to die. And then I remember waking up in my room, with Father and Daphne casting spells after spells on me. And… the thing is… I wished they didn’t. I wished they hadn’t followed me either. I... I wished they’d let me die, because in the car, when I… when I thought I was going to die, I didn’t… I wasn’t scared. I was relieved. So _after_ the accident, when my parents put me on bedrest I… I sought that relief again, but without the disappointment that came with it when I woke up. I could have gone with fire.” 

I shiver when he says that. He speaks about it so… coldly. I’m feeling sick. I hate that he suffered so much. That he thought of _death_ as a relief. I hate that I had no idea until now. 

Was he good at hiding how much pain he was in, or was I too focused on hating him to see it?

“But being a vampire was the bane of my existence,” he kept going. “so I didn’t want to die like one. Instead, I locked my door, and I went to the bathroom. I took my razor and... I undid the blades and... well I think you can figure out the rest for yourself. I didn’t even know if it could kill me, but I just… I had to try, in case it would. Daphne found me before I could completely bleed out, though. She visited me in my room often because she was worried, so when she saw that the door was locked, she must have understood that there was something going on and she broke my spell. She… It scared her so much when she saw me like that that she screamed. Mordy, who was around the same age as the twins are now, probably got worried when she heard her mum screaming and she… she came to my room. She saw me like that too, and I… Thankfully, I don’t think she remembers it, she was too little, but she looked so terrified… I promised myself I wouldn’t… try to kill myself again. I couldn’t hurt them like that. _I_ had spent an entire year hurting. I knew how it was. I was starting to get used to it. I _could_ deal with it, for them. So that they wouldn’t have to suffer like I did. So now you know why Daphne doesn’t want me to drive at night or lock my door. She’s a bit paranoid, but I can’t really blame her. If I had a kid as fucked up as I am, I don’t know how I would deal with them. But… It’s not all of it,” he says, so that I don’t start asking questions, I suppose. 

I think I’m too stunned by everything he just said to even think of questions to ask. 

I’m not sure I can handle hearing more, but he’s opening up to me, and it’s so hard to get Baz to talk about the things that hurt him, like his mum or his vampirism, I’m not going to stop him, not matter how much it’s fucking breaking my heart to hear all of this.

I think it would have hurt if I had known that even when I hated him. Hearing it from the boy I love… It’s unbearable. I know I’ve started crying at some point, silent tears rolling down my cheeks, but I don’t know exactly when. I don’t think Baz has noticed. It’s better if he hasn’t.

“When I… you know… uh… _cut_ ,” he spits the word with clear discomfort in his voice. “It was… it felt good. Having this physical pain to focus on instead of the mental pain, it… it was good. Seeing the blood flow, it was good too. It… it’s hard to explain how it makes me feel, really, because it’s so fucked up, but I felt this… sick satisfaction when I say all that blood on my arms when I went for the first incision… I wanted to see more of it. So then I cut deeper, to draw more blood, and it felt so fucking good that it’s something I’ve done again. Except that the other times, it wasn’t to die. It was just because I craved what it made me feel. If you knew the amount of times I did that in the bathroom while you were in the room. It was sick. That behaviour was sick. But I did it _so often_ in sixth year. But then there was the summer and since Daphne didn’t allow me to lock my door I couldn’t do it as often, and she was so sweet to me that summer, always asking how I was doing, spending time with me, chatting, teaching me how to drive and all that… it made everything hurt less. Daphne made me feel loved. Playing with Mordy made me feel happy. Taking care of the twins, who were just babies back then, it brightened my days a bit. Hanging out with Niall and Dev, whom I had neglected so much in sixth year, it reminded me that I wasn’t _alone_. And without this fucking awful pain that I felt constantly at school, I didn’t need to cut as much. So over the summer I practically didn’t do it. I was well on my way to stopping, so when I went back to school, I started this silly competition with myself. I had this note on my phone, and for every day spent without hurting myself, I’d add a letter, a number, an emoji, whatever, on that note, to keep track of how many days I was going without doing it. It was some sort of stupid competition against my bad coping mechanisms, but it worked. You know I’m a sore loser, I couldn’t let my stupid, self destructive brain win, but there were times when it almost did, and so when I felt like I migth relapse, I’d go to Dev and Niall, and they’d help me through it. Niall bought red ink, at some point. Lots of it. I spelled it to make the colour look close enough to blood to be satisfying and just let it run down my arms, like the blood would if I was cutting, when I had it really bad and even Dev and Niall’s attempts at distracting me didn’t work. I didn’t feel pain with the ink, but it was good enough. Seeing the blood was the biggest part of it for me, anyway, because it made me feel less like a creature and more like a human to see that I could bleed, which is silly because monsters, they bleed too, but that’s how it felt. So yeah, that was the story of how fucking messed up the bloke you decided to date is. Still want me?”

**…**

**Baz**

I’m joking, but really, I’m terrified.

What if he _doesn’t_ want me anymore, now that I’ve shown him the ugliest part of myself? What if it’s _too much_ ugly parts? He could handle my being a vampire, but all of this? That’s a whole other level of fucked up.

Instead of answering anything, he puts one of his arms under my body to pull me closer, until I’m completely lying on him, my chin on his shoulder, his arms around me. He’s holding onto me like he fears I’m going to disappear. 

I can feel the wetness of his tears where my cheek is pressed against his. 

I didn’t want him to cry, but I suppose it was inevitable. He’s so emotional. So caring. 

“Simon…”

“You were hurting _so much_ ,” he says, and I can hear his tears in his voice. “And I never noticed. I didn’t fucking see it, and maybe I could have helped you if I did but instead I just fucking made it worse, I’m so sorry Baz. I’m so sorry you went through all of that, and I’m so sorry I didn’t do a fucking thing to help you.”

My hand finds its way in his hair, with some difficulty because of our position, and I stroke it softly as I whisper “You hated me, you wouldn’t have helped me.”

“Yes, yes I would have! Even if I thought I hated you, I would have tried to help you! I wouldn’t have turned my back on you knowing you were suffering,” he says, and he really starts sobbing this time, not just crying. Ugly, broken sounds that make my heart clench.

I shouldn’t have told him all of this.

He’s too compassionate.

“Shh, it’s fine love. I’m better now. You can’t change what happened, feeling sorry about it won’t take us back in time, will it? Come on, calm down love, it’s okay,” I say, kissing his cheek. When I speak then, my lips are so close to his ear that my breath brushes them “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel sad, or guilty, or for you to pity. I told you this because I wanted you to know me, even the part of me I don’t like. I know it must have been hard to hear, but please Simon, stop crying. It’s okay, now. I still have some issues, but I’m fine now I promise. It’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I keep whispering nonsense like that to him until his shoulders stop shaking and ones of his hands let go of me to wipe his tears. I use the loss of his grip on me to move and lie on the space next to him. He takes the hint and curls up against me, almost in the same way as I did before I started talking. That’s how I prefer cuddling. I like feeling the weight of him on me, and it’s more practical for him to get on top of me if he wants to go from cuddling to snogging. 

“But Baz,” he says after a moment, looking up at me. His cheeks are pink, and I’m not sure it’s just from all the crying he’s just done. “How… Why don’t you have any… you know, scars. I’d have seen it if you had scars on your arms.”

I smile. He’s an idiot. “Magic, Snow. This wonderful thing you have too much of but never use. You can heal a wound without leaving a scar with magic, if you’re careful enough. You know, if all those years when you came back from your missions you weren’t a stubborn prick and went to the infirmary, you wouldn’t have as many scars on your body as you do.”

“It wasn’t stubbornness! The infirmary is just objectively the worst place in the world,” he pouts.

“Sounds very objective, indeed.”

“It is! I swear, it’s torture,” he says with a dramatic sigh, letting his head fall back on my chest. “I mean, I did prefer being in my room with my evil roommate instead of being there, didn’t I?”

“Evil _but hot_ roommate, don’t skip that part Snow it’s the most important one,” I tease him, giving his arm a playful slap. 

It makes him laugh. That’s such a lovelier sound than his sobs.

“Oh, yes, of course, my very, very, _very_ hot roommate, forgive me for not mentioning it.”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They look after Baz’s sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> mentions of self harm!!!
> 
> it’s not anything as in depth as in the previous chapter, but they still allude to self harm so I’d rather put a warning anyway  
> if you’re sensitive to that topic I suggest you skip Simon’s POV (he only has one, at the end of the chapter)  
> It’s only a small part of the chapter, and there’s just one other little thing that happens that I’ll write on the end note
> 
> on another note... I’VE BEEN FREAKING OUT OVER THE EXTRACT OF AWTWB RAINBOW POSTED FOR THE PAST HOUR HELP DJJDJDJDJDJJD  
> BAZ IS SEEING FIONA!!!!! AND THEY’RE BOTH DOING WELL ENOUGH (so far) TO JOKE TOGETHER!!!!!! IM HAPPY!!!!!!!

**Baz**

Last night was something.

I’m a bit stunned that I managed to say all of it, honestly. I had already told all of that to Dev and Niall, but it was step by step, not all at once like I did with Snow. It was emotionally challenging for the both of us, I’m pretty sure, but now I feel like I’ve been relieved of a weight on my shoulder, and Snow seems to have put everything I told him in the “Upsetting things not to think about” case of his brain, so things are back to normal this morning. Which is good because we are on babysitting duty and I don’t know how I could handle the girls if Snow was too busy feeling sorry for me to help me with them. 

He is very excited about babysitting, for that matter. He really likes my sisters a lot. He was almost offended when Daphne said she could ask Vera to watch the girls instead of us, it was so endearing. 

So here we are, on the living room with the kids, trying to keep them occupied. 

I’m making Mordy do some maths while Octavia is babbling on her playpen and Snow is telling Cordelia and Ophelia stories. 

They _adore_ those stories. Things about princes and princesses, knights and horses, pirates and monsters, castles and enchanted forests. I can’t help but listen to the one he’s telling them today, while still paying attention to what Mordelia is writing on her paper. 

Today he’s telling them the story of a prince who has been bewitched by an evil witch. It’s funny to see how Snow’s upbringing in the Normal world has little effects on him, like the fact that evil witches are still the villains in his story ; I never heard a story with an evil witch before I watched Disney movies, in the stories my parents told me, magicians were good.

The curse the witch cast on the prince has caused him to have heart shaped spots all over his face, and it forces him to say “I love you” to every person he sees, until he says it to the person he really wants to be saying it to to break the curse. It’s a cute story, the part with the heart shaped spots on his face makes the girls laugh, just like the moment when the prince says I love you to his old professor, or to his mean little brother who kicks him in the chin when he does. They gasp when he says it to a lady during a ball, because they think it’s going to break the curse, but then it doesn’t. 

“Is there someone the prince really loves? Will he break the curse?” 

Mordelia’s voice startles me. I suppose she stopped paying attention to her work. I won’t scold her for that. She has all day to do her maths and reading, and she’s a quick-witted little girl, it won’t take her long once she’ll really get to doing it. Besides, it’d be hypocritical of me to scold her, I’ve been too caught up in listening to Snow to watch what she was doing.

Snow raises his head to look at her “You have to listen to find out,” he says with a smile. 

Mordy then turns to me, and with her best pleading eyes, she says, “Can we go sit with Simon and the babies? I’ll do my work after, I promise.”

I pretend to think about it really hard, but quickly enough I give her a smile. “Okay, let’s go listen to Snow’s story.”

She grins, and jumps out of her chair excitedly to go sit on the floor in front of Snow like the twins. I follow suit, but I sit next to him instead of in front of. We’re at a respectable distance, no parts of our bodies touching. 

Once we’re all settled, he keeps telling his story.

“After the prince told the lady he loved her and was still under the spell of the witch, he fled the ballroom. He was ashamed, and scared because if even the most beautiful girl in the kingdom wasn’t the right person, who could he say the words to in order to break the curse? Wanting to clear his head, the prince decided to go ride his horse. He was lucky not to meet anyone on the way to the stables, keeping himself from the humiliation of saying “I love you” to more people, but when he got there, he saw the horse boy.” I think I see where this is going. I feel a smile tugging at my lips. “The prince blushed, bracing himself for yet another awkward encounter, and approached. When the boy saw the prince, he bowed and told him ‘Your Highness, what happened to your face?’. The prince tried to keep his lips shut as long as he could, but when the boy gave him a worried look, he blurted out ‘I love you.’. The boy’s eyes widened, and immediately, the prince went to apologize, like he unsuccessfully tried doing with every other person he’d told the words to so far, but this time, when he opened his mouth and said ‘I’m sorry’, he could speak the words. When he looked at his reflection on the water put there for the horses to drink, he saw that the spots were gone.”

“So the prince is in love with the horse boy!” Mordelia exclaims, clapping her hands with excitement. 

The little ones don’t react, they usually don’t understand the stories Snow tells, they just like listening to his voice. He does have a good story telling voice. 

“He is,” Snow says, laughter in his voice at Mordy’s enthusiasm.

“So he loves a boy! It’s like you and Baz!” 

“It is, indeed,” Snow answers, turning at me with shiny eyes and a bright smile on his face.

Eight snakes, I love him so much.

I see him mouth ‘I want to kiss you’. Merlin knows I want to kiss him too. But the kids are watching us a bit too much for that. Well, Mordelia is watching. Ophelia and Cordelia were up on their feet the moment they understood the story was over, on their way to go look at Octavia and babble with her. 

I look back at Snow, and shake my head slightly, mouthing ‘Wait’

“Let’s get back to work, Mordelia,” I then say, out loud this time.

She sighs loudly. “Already?” 

“You promised you would after Snow was done with his story. He is done with his story, so you have to finish your maths, young girl.”

Mordy groans as she stands up, but she goes back to sit in front of her little table anyhow. While she’s on her way, with her back on us, I whisper “That was a lovely story.” before pecking his smiling lips.

**…**

Vera interrupts the game of snakes and ladder I started with the girls while Snow essentially just got excited to watch the baby drool to tell us that lunch was served. 

Mordy groans at that, she really likes board games, while the twins are already on their way to the living room, more interested in eating than playing. 

I stand up at the same time as Mordelia does, but instead of heading to the next room like she does, I walk towards Snow, who’s on his knees in front of Octavia’s playpen, looking down at her.

“Can I carry her?” Snow asks, his eyes moving between me and my sister. 

“If you can do so without dropping her, sure.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that clumsy, you know.”

“Yes you are, you’re constantly dropping your books.”

“It’s books, it doesn’t matter if they fall. I know a baby’s fragile. I'll be careful,” he mumbles as he stands up before leaning down to take Octavia in his arms.

I watch the way he holds her, ready to correct him if he doesn’t do it well, but Snow must have carried the babies at the care homes because he holds her correctly, making sure that her head isn’t hanging. 

“Hello baby. Please don’t start crying,” he tells her as he boops her nose.

She doesn’t seem to want to start crying, though. She’s watching him with her eyes that look so big on her tiny baby face, giggling.

It makes Snow smile. “You’re adorable,” he says, booping her nose again. “Wanna go eat little one?”

As an answer, Octavia babbles. 

Snow smiles even wider before he looks at me, and the joy in his eyes makes my heart do strange things in my chest. He’s such a pretty sight, with a baby in his arms, looking so cheerful. 

I try not to think about a scenario where, in a couple of years, it’s a baby of ours that he’s holding so tenderly. We’re _far_ from that point, very, very, _very_ far, and fantasizing about such a beautiful future won’t do me any good. 

We relocate to the kitchen, and Snow decides to be the one who feeds Octavia. Since risking ending up with baby food on my clothes isn’t something I particularly enjoy, I let him. As he puts her in her high chair and tries to tie her bib without hurting her, I cut their meat for the girls. Thankfully, it’s not bloody meat so my fangs don’t try to make an appearance. 

Once I’m done with that, I just sit back and watch Snow feed Octavia, eating some vegetables when I’m not too busy smiling like the lovestruck fool I am. It’s lovely watching him play with Mordelia, Cordelia and Ophelia, but seeing him take care of Octavia, it’s a whole other experience. 

I think of how fondly Daphne looks at Father whenever he’s looking after the girls, and I think I understand what she feels, though more faintly, of course. It must be so much more heartwarming when the children are yours.

I really hope I’ll have that, someday. Ideally with one Simon Snow.

The dining room is silent for the entire meal, apart from the sounds of forks hitting plates and Snow’s words to Octavia, varying from “Please don’t spit on me.” to “Come on, open your mouth.” and other things in between.

Miraculously, the baby doesn’t spit on him, and she even eats most of her mashed carrots and all of her yogurt, which is rather extraordinary. I’ve fed her quite a few times myself to lend my parents a helping hand, and so has Vera, but Octavia doesn’t usually eat well when she’s being fed by someone who isn’t her mum or dad. 

Maybe Snow is just good with kids. He seems to be, anyway. My sisters all adore him, so I suppose he isn’t that bad.

“Vera,” I call, knowing that she’s around.

Quickly enough, she appears from the kitchen, giving me this small, tender smile she always has for me. “Could you look after the girls while Simon has lunch? I wouldn’t want him to eat alone but those little troublemakers won’t have the patience to stay calmly on their chairs while he does.”

“Of course, Mr Pitch.”

“Thank you. Girls, be good, okay?” I tell them as they’re already leaving the table.

I get three high-pitched “Yes” as an answer, and then they’re gone, Vera following them to the living room.

“I still think it’s weird she calls you Mr Pitch,” Snow intervenes and he carries Octavia out of her high chair. “Didn’t she like, raise you?”

He walks to me, carefully positioning my sister on my arms so that he’d have his hands free to eat. He sits next to me, and I wait for him to be completely settled to answer. “She looked after me, she didn’t raise me. Fiona raised me. And then my father when he was well enough to actually take care of someone. Vera… she helped them. Thank magic she did, Fiona was not fit to raise a child when my mum died. I don’t think Fiona would _ever_ be fit to raise a child.”

“Um. Still weird. Also I think it’s a bit strange that she calls you Pitch even if, you know, it’s just your dad you live with now? I mean, at school and all, everyone calls you Pitch because your mum was like, important, but here at home? It’d make more sense if she called you Grimm, in my opinion, if she had to drop one of your last names,” he says as he eats.

It’s terrifying how quickly I stopped thinking it was gross that he talks with his mouth full. I’m way too far gone.

I shrug, damn Snow and his influence on my manners. It rocks Octavia, which makes her laugh, that adorable laugh that babies have. “That’s just the way it is. When she stopped calling me by my first name, she started calling me Mr Pitch. I didn’t tell her to, she just did. Besides, I don’t think my father minds. As you said, pretty much everyone only ever calls me Pitch, if it bothered him, I’d know it. It only bothers him when Fiona does it but that’s because my father and Fiona have a very… complicated relationship, to say the least.”

“And you? I never asked but doesn’t it bother you that everyone shortens your name like that?”

“No. I don’t care much about… Outch, Octavia! Don’t pull my hair, you little demon.” Snow giggles, the bastard, as I try to get Octavia’s hand out of my hair. She _loves_ pulling hair, so she’s really happy with my, Daphne’s, and father’s hair. That’s a lot of hair for her tiny, slimy baby hands to play with. To make sure she won’t do that again, I put my hand on her stomach, knowing that the possibility to play with my fingers and look at how my ring shines will be enough to keep her occupied. “What was I saying? Yes, so, I don’t care much about the Grimm part of my name, to be honest. I’m glad it’s there, because it connects me with my sister more than if I just had my mother’s name, but I’m more attached to the Pitch part of my name. Which, like so many things, is probably because of Fiona. ‘You’re a Pitch, Baz’, ‘Us Pitches’, and how annoyed she got when father corrected her, said that it was _Grimm_ -Pitch… It probably caused me to associate myself more with Pitch than Grimm.”

“I think I’d like to see your dad and your aunt talk. It seems fun, from everything you’ve told me,” Snow says with a grin as he starts eating his vegetables, the only food left on his plate.

“Well, you’ll see that at Christmas. Maybe before, if Fiona decides to come by in the following weeks. It’s truly a spectacle, Father and Fiona being in the same room. Especially if Daphne’s here too. Not a necessarily pleasant spectacle, though.”

He frowns. “Your aunt doesn’t like Daphne? She’s so sweet.”

His comment makes me smile. “Fiona definitely dislikes Daphne more than she does my father. She… Well, my mother was my father’s wife, you know, and Fiona doesn’t like that he remarried. I’ve never seen my aunt as angry as when Father told her Daphne and him were going to be married. She didn’t want Daphne -anyone, really- to replace my mum.”

“No offense to your aunt, but that’s stupid. It was probably much better for your dad and you both that he married Daphne.”

“It was. Merlin knows what would have happened if she wasn’t here to keep this family together. My relationship with my father isn’t great, but I’m sure it’d be terrible if Daphne wasn’t here to try and make us recreate a bond that broke so long ago. But Fiona, she doesn’t see that. She sees Daphne stroking my hair, or hears her say my name with tenderness, and she assumes that Daphne is trying to be my mum.”

Snow puts his fork down to drink.

“Your aunt is so weird,” he says after swallowing half of his glass. “She should be happy that you have someone who cares for you like Daphne does, especially since you’re not her actual, biological son. She could have treated you differently than her own kids, or been awful to you _because_ you weren’t her son.”

“Try telling Fiona that, and see if you have all of your limbs when you’re done with that conversation,” I say, snorting. 

**…**

**Simon**

It was nice to spend time with the girls, but I’m glad when Daphne comes back. I really want to cuddle with Baz a bit and we haven’t had the chance to do that today yet, since we were so busy with his sisters. So, the moment we’re back in his room, I grab his hand and drag him to the bed, pushing him on it until he’s lying with his back flat against the mattress and I can go cling to his side, like I often do. I hear him laugh softly when I do that, but I know he isn’t making fun. He likes knowing that I want to be close to him even when we’re not about to have sex. Though honestly, I wouldn’t mind if we _did_ have sex, later when we can lock the door. But Baz isn’t that much in the mood since we’re back at his place. Or rather, he _is_ in the mood, but he’s being a bitch so he teases, and teases, and then he pretends that he doesn’t want me and just _stop_ before I can even take his pants off. And I _know_ that it’s not because he isn’t aroused, I’ve heard him wanking in the bathroom after his little teasing sessions -he doesn’t care much about silencing spells, now. No, he really just wants _me_ to be frustrated, even if it means he’s frustrated too. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I can’t wait for him to _stop_ doing that and actually let me fuck him. I might snap and blow him in the fucking living room if he isn’t careful.

Soon after I rest my head on his chest, his hand is on my back, rubbing circles, while he hooks his pinky with mine with his other hand.

“Snow?”

“Hm?”

“Two questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t you have anything to say, about… what I said last night. I know that you probably put all of that in the list of things you don’t think about, but if you take a second to think about it… do you have any question? Anything but apologies and pity, really. I don’t want you to have something on your mind because of that, so if there’s anything that’s particularly bothering you, ask.”

Fuck I wish he didn’t bring that up again. I know why he did, and it’s actually a good reason, but I was indeed trying very hard not to think about it, because just thinking about all the things he told me makes tears burn my eyes. 

“There’s one thing,” I say. “You said that you… that you haven’t… _you know_ …” Because I can’t bring myself to say it, I let go of his pinky and run my knuckles along his arm. “in a while. Was it true or did you lie?”

“It was true,” he answers as he reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “I haven’t done that in a bit more than a year now. I’m not going to lie, I still get urges, sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly low, but I don’t act on those urges anymore. I’m fine, love, I swear.”

I nod. I trust him. I don’t think he’d lie about that. 

“Okay. But if one day you… you get those urges, like you say, and you actually act on it… I… please tell me, okay? I couldn’t help you back then, but I… I could help you now if it becomes a problem again.”

“It won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a soft, comforting voice.

“Good. What’s the other thing? You said you had two questions,” I say, because I can’t handle talking about this any longer. I hope his second question is about something lighter, because I’m already starting to feel somewhat sick.

“Yes… You might like the second one a bit more,” he says, and I can hear a smile in his voice.

“Oh, well, pray tell, what is it?”

“Would you like it if I called you Simon more?”

I move my head to look at him so fast that I feel a bit lightheaded. “Is that even a question?”

“I didn’t say that I’d call you Simon _all the time_ , let’s not get too much of the good things, but I’m getting tired of calling you by your last name so often and I don’t want you to look at me with bewildered eyes any time I say Simon and not Snow, so I thought I’d ask.”

“You can just admit that you want to call me by my name because you’re a big softie, you know,” I tell him, amusement in my voice and I shift until I’m on all fours over him, my lips aligned with his but not touching them. 

“I’m not a softie.”

“Yes you are. You’re a big, big, big softie. You blush when I call you pet names. You tell me incredibly nice things when you’re not being a prick. You cry after sex, sometimes. You like watching chick flicks. You’re sappy and romantic.”

“And _you_ are fucking annoying,” he mutters as he grabs the back of my neck to pull me into a _soft_ kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you skipped Simon’s POV : Baz asks Simon if he’d like him to call him Simon instead of Snow more often, and then Simon makes fun of him for being a softie because he’s annoying like that


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are alone at home... things happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had 0 motivation to write today and the chapter still somehow ended up being 4,5k long which is like 1k longer than my usual chapters 😪

**Malcolm**

“Darling?” Daphne calls from the bathroom.

“Yes?”

“Could you help me with my dress?”

“Sure,” I say, already standing up to walk towards her. 

She’s waiting with her back on me, holding her hair up, the zipper of her dress completely undone. I don’t think I’ve seen this particular dress before. She always needs my help when her dresses close on the back, I’d have remembered it if she’d already worn it. 

It’s dark green, not a colour she usually goes for.

As I zip the dress up, slowly covering her pale skin, I ask “Is this new?”

“Sort of. Baz got it for me on my birthday,” she answers as she turns around, dark hair falling in waves down her back. 

“It suits you. You look beautiful.”

She smiles. “Thank you. Speaking of Baz, I was thinking you could come with me today, so that Simon and him could have some time alone instead of having you around.”

“Are you suggesting I bother my son and his boyfriend.”

I’m still trying to get used to saying the word. 

Daphne laughs as she reaches for her earrings, the same ones she always wears since Octavia was born. She used to wear dangling ones, but since the baby has a nasty habit of pulling things, she wears studs now so that she won’t get her ear ripped off.

“I’m merely saying that they might enjoy having some time to themselves. You’ve been…”

“Yes, I know, I’ve been 18 too. Please stop saying that, I don’t particularly like the implications of those words.”

“Your son is a teenager, Malcolm. A teenager with a boyfriend who might enjoy some privacy,” she continues, merciless. You wouldn’t know, just looking at her sweet smile that she loves tormenting me so much. 

“Daphne, please.”

She finishes putting her earring on, and then she sprays herself with her perfume. Chanel n°5. A classic, but exquisite. 

“You haven’t told me whether you agreed to come with me or not. If you do, maybe we could drive to your parents’ after dropping Mordy at Anne’s? I’m sure Cordelia and Ophelia would love to see their grandparents.”

I’m not sure but I think Daphne is trying to make sure we stay far from the house for a long time. Merlin, this woman.

I’m not particularly thrilled at the thought of visiting my parents, but if I say no she’ll just find something else, that might be worse. Going to my brother’s place, for instance. 

“Yes, good idea. Can you call to warn them, though? I’ll go tell the children that they’re staying alone.”

“18, Malcolm. 18. They’re not children,” she comments, amusement clear in her voice. 

She’s already walking back to our room to look for her phone. 

“I’m going to tell _the children_ that they’ll be staying alone.”

**…**

I don’t know how he’s done it, but it seems that Simon Snow has bewitched all of my children. When I walk in the living room, I see him lying on the couch, his head on Baz’s lap and Octavia curled up on his stomach, her thumb in her mouth, much more peaceful than she usually is when she’s being held by someone who isn’t Daphne, Basil or me. The three other girls are all sitting on the floor, listening to Simon talk. 

I would be lying if I said they didn’t make a pretty picture, the six of them. Simon doesn’t even look this foreign. He looks like he belongs here.

I clear my throat to signal my presence, and the room falls silent as I see Baz start. He stops stroking Simon’s hair and moves his hand away before turning to me. I think he nudges Simon’s shoulder discreetly, but I can’t see well. Anyhow, soon enough, they’re both sitting, with enough space between them for Mordelia to sit -which she does. 

Simon is still holding Octavia carefully. 

“Father? Do you want anything?” Baz asks, and I can hear his uneasiness in his voice.

Is it because he was caught cuddling Simon, or because he was caught cuddling Simon _by me?_

I think I know the answer to that.

I really didn’t do a good job with him, did I?

“Simply to tell you that I’m going to Anne’s with your mother and sisters today. You two will have the house to yourselves. Please stay home and don’t do anything stupid. You’re a bit too old for me to try and lock the alcohol cabinets, but be responsible, okay? I’ll leave you some money so you can go to town for lunch, but if you’d rather stay here, don’t burn the house down trying to cook. I don’t know when we’ll be back, but we should be here for dinner. Oh, and in case that’s something you might have considered, don’t invite anyone. Not even Dev, Basil. And for the love of magic, answer your phone if we call or text you. Is that clear?”

“Cristal,” he answers, nodding.

“Good. We’ll be on our way, then. Girls, come get ready. Basil, if you don’t mind helping one of your sisters with her shoes, please.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz and I are going to be alone.

All day.

No kids barging in his room or demanding that we play with them.

No _parents._

I’ll be able to kiss and touch him as much as I want.

That’s _fantastic_ news. 

I’m surprised Mr Grimm would even let us be alone here. Completely alone, since he doesn’t want us to invite anyone -which I don’t think we would have anyway. I’m surprised he’d do anything that’d allow us, in one way or another, to be _close._

It must have been Daphne’s idea, then. Baz has been saying that she’s a bit too supportive of our relationship since the condoms thing, and Mr Grimm seems like he doesn’t usually refuse her things, so if she asked him to come, he must have said yes even if he didn’t want to leave his son alone with _me_.

“Can I have my daughter back?”

Mr Grimm’s voice startles me.

Shit since when does he talk directly to me?

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure, sorry,” I say as I carefully stand up to let him take Octavia from my arms. 

Baz come save me, please.

But Baz is busy putting one of the twin’s shoes on, and making sure that Mordy puts a scarf around her neck, from what I can hear, so he’s not going to come and rescue me.

The moment she’s in her father’s arms, Octavia reaches for his hair, but he’s tied it back so she can’t grab anything. She seems disappointed. Well, as disappointed as a baby can be, I guess. 

“She seems to like you. So do the girls,” Mr Grimm comments.

_Why is he talking to me?_

“Well, I’m trying not to make them hate me. It’s not that hard with kids. Especially with them, they’re not little brats.”

Unlike their stupid brother.

“My wife has also taken a liking to you,” Baz’s dad says as he changes the way he’s holding Octavia so that she can look over his shoulder instead of at the ceiling. 

Yeah, I know, you’re the only one in this family who dislikes me. I’ve noticed.

“I like her too,” I admit with a smile. Baz had told me his stepmum was a sweet person, but she’s really, really, really great. Her and Ebb are like the only adults that don’t make me feel like shit when they talk to me. “She’s… She’s very nice.”

“Don’t look so scared when you talk to me, you seem seconds from fainting,” Mr Grimm says, cocking his eyebrow, much like Baz does. Baz may not look like his dad a lot, but they have the same mannerisms, the same way to speak too. 

It’s because _I am_ seconds from fainting _._

“Mordelia has talked about you a lot since Baz and you came back from Watford, always excitedly. The twins adore you, Ophelia can’t keep your name off her mouth. Even Octavia lets you hold her without screaming at the top of her lungs. Daphne is very clearly fond of you, and I don’t think I need to elaborate on how Basil sees you.”

I chuckle at that, which I probably shouldn’t, but it’s not like I’m known for having control over myself.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve made your way into this family. A bit too quickly to my liking, but you have. If my wife and children all accept you, I won’t stubbornly try to keep you out. Especially since, if you’re to stay with Basil, which I hope you are, for his sake, I don’t want things to be hostile between us. He’ll be the one suffering from it. So I would like to propose to you to bury the hatchet and start over. The main reason you mistrusted me and I mistrusted you was because of the Mage’s war, but now that he’s locked up for good, there’s no more war to be made. Do you agree with me, Simon?”

Since when does he call me _Simon_?

“Of course, Sir,” I answer immediately, in case he changes his mind if I give him a second to think about it.

That’s a bloody unexpected chance to make things better for Baz. I know it weighs on him, that his dad dislikes me. It might be the only time Mr Grimm gives me that chance. I can’t miss it.

“Malcolm will do just fine.” 

When he says that, he frees one of his hands to squeeze my shoulder, before simply turning around and walking out, the baby babbling in his arms, completely unaware of the weird situation she just witnessed.

**…**

“What did my father want?” Baz asks the moment the front door closes, still standing in the hallway.

“C’mere,” I say, patting the couch. 

There’s no one to watch us, I’m not going to pass on the opportunity to cling to him all day long. Once he’s sitting, I shift until I’m on the same position as I was before his dad came in, except for the small detail that I don’t have a baby drooling on my shirt. Baz strokes my curls absentmindedly. 

“He pretty much told me I was part of the family now and that he wanted to… start over. To put our disagreements caused by the Mage’s war behind so that I’m, you know, just his kid’s boyfriend and he’s just my boyfriend’s dad, and we’re not the enemy anymore, I guess. But Baz, do we _really_ have to talk about your dad right now? I’d rather have fun with you.”

**…**

**Baz**

Typical.

But, I have to admit, I’d rather be talking about anything but my dad, really. I’m surprised, and _very glad_ that he did this, but there’s not much to say about it.

**…**

**Simon**

“When you say have fun, what do you mean exactly?” he asks me with a sigh, trying very hard to make his voice sound bored. Bastard.

“Well I’m not sure it really counts as fun, honestly, but uh I’d like you to read me that book, you know Pride and Prejudice. You said you would, if I wanted to, and I want to so uh, yeah.”

“You want me to read to you,” he repeats, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah. Please. I like your voice and I won’t be able to read the book on my own without getting bored anyway.”

**…**

**Baz**

In the end, I don’t read much of the book to Simon. Soothed by my voice and my hand massaging his scalp, he fell asleep with his head on my lap after only three chapters. 

I don’t mind in the slightest.

I would have preferred spending time with him as he’s _awake_ but he needs to rest. We stayed up awfully late to finish the season of the show we’re watching, and Snow needs a big amount -a _normal_ amount, really, it’s just me who doesn’t sleep enough- of sleep to be well-rested. He wakes up a bit after 11, and decides we have to go to the kitchen and figure out something to eat for lunch with what’s there. 

It’s Sunday, so none of the house staff is here, which means Simon and I are on our own to make ourselves food. He says it’s not necessary spending money at a restaurant when we have supplies here, and I’m rather excited to be cooking with him, so I don’t complain.

Crowley, if Fiona could see me, getting all cheerful about making food with my boyfriend. She’d gag. 

“I think we could just make mashed potatoes. It’s not complicated.”

“We ate mashed potatoes yesterday.”

“Then find something else to do with potatoes. You people have a shit ton of them. I thought it was for poor people.”

I roll my eyes. He’s an idiot.

“It’s not the Middle Ages anymore, you moron. Potatoes can be used in many different ways, hence the fact that we have lots of them. The cook can make a lot of different meals with them and the kids prefer them to vegetables when they’re being picky, so really, potatoes are a blessing in that kitchen.”

“Ok, ok, got it, you eat peasants food,” he says with that stupid on his face. “How do you suggest we make those potatoes then, if you don’t want to eat them mashed.”

“We can just cut them, add some stuff on top to make them more tasty, and put that in the oven. When my parents go out in the evening and I have to make the girls dinner that’s usually what I do because it’s simple and they like it.”

“Then let’s do that. I’m not particularly hungry since I just slept and you don’t eat much, so lets not do too much, though,” he decrees, as he plunges his hand in the string back where the cook keeps the vegetables and potatoes. “How many should I take?”

“Two big ones, three if you’re hungrier than you say.”

He only takes two. 

“Okay, so now go wash them, and then cut one in squares. I’m going to cut the other and see what to put on them.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, mocking a military salute because he’s an imbecile.

The name makes me snort.

I wonder how _he_ would react if _I_ called him sir in another, very different context. That’s an idea I have to keep in mind.

**…**

It was bound to happen, really.

I should have known.

I asked _Simon Snow_ , the clumsiest person I know, to use a knife.

I _smell_ it before I see it. Sweet and buttery.

Blood.

 _His_ blood.

“Oh shit,” he curses, moving his arm until his hand is over the sink, which happens to be right next to where I fucking am. 

My fangs break the barrier of my gums, filling my cheeks. I drop my own knife, my hand flying to my mouth.

“Snow, for fuck’s sake.”

**…**

**Simon**

He looks terrified. 

He always does when it comes to his fangs. To his vampirism. I hate it. I hate that Baz is so disgusted with a part of himself.

“Baz, love, it’s okay.”

With my hand that’s not injured, I reach out to pull his hand down until I can see his mouth, and those two tiny white triangles on his bottom lip. 

“Snow, you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah. Wanna help me with that?”

“What the fuck are you saying, you lunatic,” he groans, trying to move back but I hold on tight.

The fact that his wrist is still between my fingers proves me that he doesn’t really want to go. If he did, he could have easily freed himself, he’s much stronger than I am when he doesn’t hold back.

“Well, it’s not gonna stop flowing anyway, so better in your mouth than on the sink, I guess.”

His eyes go wide, and they flicker to my finger for the first time since I cut myself.

**…**

**Baz**

He’s a moron.

A gigantic fucking moron.

He can’t… He can’t just say things like that.

I’ve fantasized about tasting his blood since the first fucking time I smelled it, he can’t…

He’s moving his hand. 

He’s moving his _fucking_ bloody hand.

Some of the blood runs down his finger, then falls on the floor.

What a fucking waste.

It’s too close, it smells too good.

No it’s not too close.

It’s not close _enough._

**…**

**Simon**

He grabs my wrist, and in half a second my finger is in his mouth.

He makes a sound, something like a whimper and a groan at the same time when he closes his lips around my finger, and quickly enough I can feel his tongue licking at the wound.

It stings a bit at first, having contact on a fresh cut, but then it doesn’t. I suppose vampire saliva must have some sort of anaesthetic properties, so that it doesn’t hurt when they feed off someone.

**…**

**Baz**

That’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.

Snow’s blood tastes… It tastes like every food and drink I love. It tastes like how pleasure feels like. It’s good, but indescribable. Fuck if that’s what human blood always tastes like, I understand why vampires don’t eat animals. 

Soon, too soon, the flow stops, the wound closed. I suppose vampire saliva has healing properties, for those kinds of wounds. 

When Snow’s finger slips out of my mouth, it’s now covered in spit, not blood.

Which is much more erotic than it has any right to be.

He wipes his finger on his jeans - _which is much more erotic than it has any right to be_ \- and then he’s looking back at me, a small smile on his face and his cheeks red. “Could you, uh, cast a spell to clean the blood?” he says, waving at the few drops of blood that fell on the floor and sink.

I could fucking lick it off. I don’t even care that it’s on the goddamn floor.

I don’t, though. I should have already resisted my urges when I dranks his blood off his fing…

And that’s when it hits me.

I drank Simon’s blood.

The fool was bleeding, and he fucking told me to lick his blood off. And I _did_.

I wait for the usual wave of nausea that comes with the sudden realization that I’ve drunk _blood_ but nothing comes.

I don’t feel guilty.

I don’t feel ashamed.

I don’t feel… I don’t feel like a monster.

Because he wanted to. Because he doesn’t seem to regret it.

Because it was the single greatest, most mind-blowing experience I’ve had in my life, except maybe for the sex he and I have.

Simon giggles. “You look like how you did when you were high on my magic.”

 _Yes,_ that’s how it feels. Partly.

It feels like the perfect mix of what it feels like to have Snow’s magic inside me, and of what it feels like to have an orgasm. 

Overall, it’s brilliant.

Some part of my brain tells me that it shouldn’t feel so good, that I just drank _human blood_ but I make that part of my brain shut up. I don’t need those kinds of negative feelings right now. I don’t need those kinds of negative feelings _at all_.

He fucking _asked_ me to drink his blood. I didn’t do anything wrong. He _wanted_ this.

“Baz, cleaning spell,” Simon says, laughter in his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, cleaning spell,” I say, as I get my wand out, trying very hard to think of something that isn’t the aftertaste of his blood in my mouth. “What’s the cleaning spell?”

The fucker just bursts out laughing, so hard that he holds his stomach, bending down.

**…**

**Simon**

It takes Baz some time to really come back to reality, but once he does, everything just goes back to normal. He cleans the mess my blood made, and then we just start making lunch again, chatting like we always do. 

It’s almost like he didn’t drink my blood. 

I think I prefer that it’s like that. It’s much better than if Baz started having a panic attack over it. I’m glad that he’s feeling okay about this.

After lunch, the afternoon goes on pretty normally too, we watch our show in the living room instead of in his room, cuddling the whole time. _Until…_

**…**

**Baz**

My pinkie runs up his thigh, only barely touching his crotch.

He tenses a bit, but then he promptly _ignores me_.

He’s been doing that, yesterday and the day before. He understood that I was teasing him without ever _actually_ touching him, so he started pretending he didn’t feel my hands on him. Pretending like he didn’t have a bloody hard on. It makes it all much less fun. But I know he’s frustrated still, and that’s the important part.

I want to see when he snaps. I want to see what he does to me when he snaps.

If I’m doing this well, I shouldn’t have to wait too long for that. I _can’t_ wait too long for that. I’ve been too fucking horny since I drank his blood, I won’t handle it if we don’t fuck today. If I don’t end up with his cock up my arse in the near future I might end up _crying._

Though I might end up crying even if I get his cock in my arse.

I want him so fucking much.

It was torture, tormenting him like that, but I think the sex we’ll have after all of that built up frustration will be well worth it.

I get a bit bolder with my touches, my hand rubbing hard against his crotch as I make it go up to slide under the hem of his shirt. I feel him shiver when our skins touch. He always does. I’m so cold.

It won’t be long before my hand warms up, though. 

It doesn’t stop tracing the lines of his torso until it reaches his nipples, circling them one by one, brushing them until they get hard. Once that’s done, I throw my leg over his to sit on his lap.

“‘m watching the telly,” he groans.

The _audacity_ of this motherfucker.

I don’t answer to his obvious provocation. Not with words, at least. Instead, I duck to put my mouth on his neck, softly rocking my hips against him. I start kissing, licking, and I can already hear the change in his breathing.

He has a whole fixation for my mouth on his neck. I think that making me drink his blood wasn’t so much of an impulse thing, but more something he’s thought about before. He always gets crazy when I apply my mouth to his neck, especially when I start nipping at the skin to leave bruises. He can’t give me love bites, but _I_ can and I sure _do._

He’s hard now. Good. It shouldn’t be long before he gets fed up with all the teasing.

To speed up the process a bit, I let go of one of his nipples to stroke the lower part of his belly, right over the waistband of his trousers. One finger brushing along it, which must tickle him because a shiver runs down his spine and I can feel the strangled sound he makes vibrate against my lips. It’s so bloody hot, I can’t help but moan. 

Then, I moan another time as I press my cock against his over the fabric of our clothes, overplaying the moan a bit because I know how much he loves to hear me. He’s always talking about all the “lovely sounds” I make when he fucks me. 

I see him flex his hands, as if he wanted to touch me and tried very hard to hold himself back, and that’s my cue to leave.

I stop touching and kissing him, and in a heartbeat, I’m up on my feet, a smirk on my face. 

I see his eyes go dark.

“Basil…”

_Fuck yes._

**…**

**Simon**

“Simon?” the bastard says, all innocently.

I’m going to fucking strangle him. This has been going on for too long. 

I stand from the couch, walking towards him. 

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

When I make a step, he makes one step back.

“Nothing.”

Fucking smug arsehole. 

I don’t let his back hit the wall. Well, I don’t let his back hit the wall because he’s walking backwards. When he’s close enough, I grip his wrists, both of them, and I pin them -and _him_ \- to the wall. His pupil widen until I can barely see the grey of his irises.

So _that’s_ what he was looking for. I swear to fucking God.

“Exactly,” I tell him slowly. “ _Nothing_. And I’ve had enough of this.”

**...**

**Baz**

Fuck, me too.

“You clearly want to be fucked,” he continues, applying so much pressure to my cock with his thigh that it almost hurts. My head rolls back against the wall. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answer with a gasp as he grinds against me.

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want you to fuck me.”

His face gets even closer to mine, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but when my lips open expectantly, he moves his head to bite my neck. _Hard._ I’m pretty sure he almost broke the skin.

It makes me moan _so fucking loud_ I want to muffle the sound with my hand, but he’s still holding it. Holding both of them.

“Then why have you been such a bloody tease _all week_?”

“I wanted you to get fed up with me,” I admit, because there’s no point in lying. He’s most definitely caught up on that by now. “So that you wouldn't be so gentle.”

He licks where he just bit. “Couldn’t you just _tell me_ you wanted me to be less gentle instead of driving me crazy every fucking night?”

He won’t see it, his face is still against my neck, but I smile. “It’s no fun telling you.”

**…**

**Simon**

He’s unbelievable. 

It’s such a Baz Pitch thing to do, it makes me so mad I didn’t understand what he was doing before. We could have _fucked_ before if I had.

But at the same time…

We have the house to ourselves.

So many more possibilities than if we were just stuck in his room…

I let go of his wrists, only to be able to get hold of the back of his thighs to carry him up. His legs wrap around my waist almost immediately, and I’m pressing him back against the wall as much as I can as his arms fall on my shoulders. When he looks down at me, he gives me one of his fucking smirks.

“You know what else is no fun? Being teased for days on end by a bloody brat like you. But you know what, Basil?” I move my left arm under his arse to free my right one while still holding him up. I start by running my finger along his jaw tenderly like I often do, and then I’m grabbing his chin, forcing his head down.

**…**

**Baz**

I wish he’d slapped me.

**…**

**Simon**

“ _I’m_ going to be the one who has fun now. And _you_ are going to pay for your fucking attitude.”

**…**

**Baz**

Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the chaotic progression of this chapter from Malcolm having a POV to a very horny Baz being pinned to a wall
> 
> fun fact : the scene where Baz drinks Simon’s blood wouldn’t have happened if i wasn’t so clumsy ; the other day I cut my finger while making lunch and it bled a lot and my stupid brain went “eheh it would be funny if Simon cut himself like that and Baz was around”
> 
> also I guess I’m going back to writing smut,,, I have no idea what to write though so I’m not sure I’ll have a chapter ready for tomorrow but I’ll try my best


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the sex, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WAS A BITCH TO WRITE OMG IM SO BAD AT WRITING SMUT

**Baz**

I don’t know how we ended up so far away, but Snow is sitting on the couch while I’m standing in front of him. I don’t like that. I want to touch him. I want _him_ to touch me. 

“Give me your phone and your wand and take your clothes off.”

I cross my arm on my chest, giving him my best scornful look. “Why should I do that?”

He takes a deep breath. “Because I tell you so.”

I simply snort at that, watching irritation write itself all over his features.

He stands up, and I feel excitement course through me as he hooks his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me closer. His breath smells faintly of mint thanks to the gum he’s been chewing earlier this afternoon. 

“I’ll spell it out for you. Thanks to your little show this week, I’ve seen that I was very much capable of getting off _without_ you even when you’re what turned me on. So you either stop being such a bitch, and I fuck you, or you keep that attitude and I’ll tie your hands behind your back and wank in front of you. You obviously _won’t_ get to come in this scenario. It’s all up to you, really. Are you going to be good now, Baz?”

I might have contemplated the second scenario a bit more if I didn’t need to come so bad. Maybe that’s something we could keep for some other day, though. Just the thought of Simon touching himself in front of me while I can do nothing but watch… 

“Yes,” I answer, looking at him in the eyes.

“Yes _who_?”

“Yes sir,” I say, feeling a smile tugging at my lips.

**…**

**Simon**

Well that’s not what I was expecting him to call me but I can’t say I’m mad at it. That’s really, really hot.

“Then give me your phone and wand and take your clothes off,” I say as I let go of his jeans, pushing him back a bit. 

Then I sit back on the couch, presenting him my open hand for him to put the items I asked him for on it. He quickly does, and I put them in my own pockets just as quickly ; his phone on the back pocket of my jeans, his wand against my arm with mine. Then I just watch him undress. 

He makes quick work of it ; sometimes he likes giving me a show, undoing those silly buttons on his fancy shirts very, very, very slowly, but today he’s almost exposing too much skin at once for me to fully appreciate it. He must want to get off quickly, I wasn’t the only one getting frustrated because of his little games, after all. I’m going to make him wait _so much_ before I make him come.

And then he’s naked. 

The sight still takes my breath away, honestly.

Baz Pitch, completely naked _for me._ Because _I_ told him to undress. Because he wants to have sex _with me_. 

It’s brilliant.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks smugly.

“Very much. I think I’d rather see your arse, though. Come over here,” I say as I pat my lap.

I hope he understands what I mean.

I hope he’ll _want_ that. He likes it when I smack his arse but this… what _I_ want now, it’s more than just a playful smack because he’s wiggling his butt near me.

Seeing how his eyes go wide when I speak, I think he’s understood, and I think he wants it too. Good.

I sit with my back against the back of the couch so that when he lies on me he can rest the top of his chest and legs on it. I don’t want him to be too uncomfortable.

He positions himself on me carefully, and I see that he pays attention to lie in a way that ensures his already hard cock will rub against my jeans when I hit him. It makes me smile. 

I almost want to hold his hips up to make sure he _can’t_ get any friction, but I’m not that cruel.

He looks so beautiful like that, his forehead pressed against the couch and his arse up on my lap. I stroke it softly as I bend down to whisper “Are you sure you want this?”

“Crowley Snow, does it look like I don’t?” he answers sharply.

Oh it’s like that?

I raise my hand and let it fall back down on his arse, making him gasp in surprise. “Don’t talk back.”

“Fuck,” I hear moan under his breath as he grips the pillow that’s against the armrest, his head digging in the couch more. I wish I could see the look on his face.

I also kind of wish we were on the bed. It’s so hot when he grips the sheets like that. But it’d be a pity to waste our one chance to do this outside of a bed.

“That’s for being a brat. Now, how many do you think you deserve for all of that teasing you’ve done this week?”

“On a scale of 1 to 20, how annoyed are you at me?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

I see what he’s doing, of course I do. I should push, ask _him_ to give me a number again to be sure it’s a number he’s okay with, but I know he won’t answer. 

“A solid 15.”

“15 it is, then,” he says as he shifts to put the pillow under his head. 

It’s more comfortable than the leather of the couch, I suppose.

“15. Count them for me. And say thank you.”

He doesn’t nod. Bastard. Let’s see if he’ll do it nonetheless.

I hit him again, on the same spot as the first time. This time I focus on the slap itself, not his reaction. The loud noise when my hand hits his cheek. The faint sting I feel in my hand. The way his skin moves a bit at the impact. 

“One.”

He doesn’t say thank you.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard, I don’t think I quite got a ‘thank you’”

“Fuck off,” he spits out.

“Oh, Baz, I’m afraid those are not the right words…” I tell him, running a finger down the cleft of his arse until I get to his hole.

I press down. I’m not _actually_ going to finger him dry, but I’m putting enough pressure to make him believe I _might_.

He tenses “Thank you.”

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you, sir.”

God that’s much more arousing than it should be. He can probably feel how hard I am as well as I can feel how hard _he_ is.

“Keep counting,” I say, and that’s the only warning I give him before I spank him on the same spot as before, but on the other cheek.

I fucking love the way he relaxes seconds after the impact, when the initial shock is gone and he’s just left to enjoy it. Enjoy the pain.

I’m not sure that’s something I understand or would be into, but Baz definitely seems to be, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like doing it to him.

“Two. Thank you.”

My other hand slides up his back to stoke his shoulder softly. I won’t tell him he’s being good now, he’ll have to work for it some more, but I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate his efforts to _obey_ instead of being contrary.

And then, I bring my hand down again.

“Three. Thank you.”

I wait a little bit, and then, again.

“Four. Thank you.”

I wait less, and hit harder. He buries his head in the pillow, making the moan that escapes his lips much fainter than I wish it to be. “Five. Thanks.”. His voice is starting to get breathy. Good.

I give him a little break, rubbing his back and one of his thighs tenderly. “You know, love, there’s one thing I really don’t like about your being a vampire…”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. His voice is muffled by the pillow but I can still hear how confused it sounds. “What?”

“It’s difficult to leave a mark on your skin,” I tell, my voice low like it’s a secret. “I want to see your arse all bruised.”

I can feel him shudder under my hand.

“Maybe…” He gulps. “Maybe if you hit hard enough.”

“Maybe, yes… would you like me to try?”

He nods vigorously. “Please.”

I’m getting a ‘please’ already? He’s either much more frustrated than I gave him credit for, or he’s particularly enjoying being spanked. 

Or both.

I’m happy to oblige him. I give him five more, making sure that he’s keeping count and thanking me, and I relish how much his voice is quivering, the almost unnoticeable way he pushes his arse up when I’m taking too long to hit again, his whimpers and clenched fists.

There’s nothing I like quite as much as seeing him feel so good because of me. It’s probably a bit contradictory, since technically I’m not _exactly_ doing something that feels good, but it does for Baz and that’s what really matters right now.

I want to torment him by making him wait before he gets to come, yes. He deserves it, for making me wait like that.

But I want to torment him by making him see bloody stars.

“Ready for the last 5?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Surprisingly, his skin is starting to be pink. Now that I think about it, after we make out a lot, his lips can stay pink for a moment. I really hope it’ll be the same for his butt. I won’t see it _red_ or _bruised_ but that’s great too.

Maybe I shouldn’t want to see bruises on him.

Not the time to have a crisis over that, not when he’s so eager for more, rocking his hips to both rub his cock against my thigh and his arse against my hand.

“Don’t get so impatient,” I tell him with laughter in my voice. “You know I’m going to take care of you.”

And I do.

I’m hitting him really hard now. I was a bit hesitant at first but the more it hurts, the more he seems to like it, and who am I to deny him what feels better. Besides, he’s being particularly obedient, so he can get what he wants. 

“Eleven. Thank you.” His voice is faint and shaky. I can’t see his face but I know he’s crying. Has been since about the seventh. But those are good tears. I don’t mind those tears _at all._

Some more tears must spring to his eyes when I hit him again, on the exact same spot and just as hard. He lets out a choked moan, and then “Twelve. Thanks.”

I’m going for a thirteenth one when the ringtone of his phone brutally interrupts me. 

Baz groans, and not in any of the ways I like, when I reach for his phone.

When I see the name on the screen, I smile. Maybe the call ruined the moment, but I’m pretty sure I could still get some fun out of this.

“Answer,” I order as I hand him the phone, making my voice as bossy as I can. “It’s your dad. He said to answer your phone if he called.”

I can see horror washes over Baz’s face when he cranes his neck to look at me. I simply give him a big, bright smile as I swipe to answer the call, forcing the phone near his ear.

He’s got no choice but to take it, now. His hand is shaking a little when it closes around the phone.

“Hello?”

**…**

**Baz**

“Hi, Baz,” Daphne’s voice says. I suppose she’s driving and asked Father to call me with his phone instead of trying to look for hers in the mess that is her purse. 

That probably means I’m on speaker.

Brilliant.

Fuck Simon Snow, making me take a call from my _parents_ when tears are rolling down my cheeks, my breathing is more than uneven, and my arse is burning because he’s just been _spanking_ me.

“I’m just checking on you boys,” my stepmother continues. “Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, mother.”

I feel Snow’s hot breath on my skin, under my arse. Crowley what is this idiot…

He licks a longue stripe across my thigh.

_Fuck Simon Snow._

**…**

**Simon**

He squirms when I bite his thigh. Perfect.

“Not much,” he tells Daphne -apparently, it’s her. He said ‘mother’. “We’ve mostly been watching netflix.”

His voice is too steady. The bastard’s got too much control over himself. I don’t like this.

I want to see all of this self control crumble. I want him panting and shivering while he’s on the phone with his parents.

So some kissing and biting won’t do. I have to take things to the next level, especially since it’ll probably be a short call, so I really have to give him my best and to do it _quickly._

I bring my middle finger to my mouth, liking it, coating it in saliva as Baz says “No, Simon didn’t want to go to the restaurant, so we stayed home.”

I brush his hole with my finger, and he visibly tenses. 

I’ve seen him finger himself with just spit instead of lube, I know it’s not something he dislikes, so I wait until he starts talking again to push inside.

“Yes we…” He lets out a choked sound. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” he says with his voice quivering just slightly. “So, I was saying, Snow and I cooked. Nothing complicated and we didn’t…” _Snow_? That won’t do. I rub his prostate and he has to bite back a moan. He tries to make it look like a coughing fit as he glares at me over his shoulder. “We didn’t burn the house down. Can I hang up now, I really need a drink?”

He coughs some more to make it believable. Bastard. 

He’s still looking at me, so I give him my most innocent smile before I rub his prostate again, to torment him, and then, to make him really furious, I moan much louder than I ever really would and say “ _Oh my God, Baz”._

He hangs up the moment he catches up on what I’m doing, not even saying goodbye to his parents.

I burst out laughing when he says “What the fuck was that?”

“Come on, it was fun,” I tell him, still moving my finger inside him. 

He doesn’t seem to mind that, so why would I stop, huh?

“ _For you,”_ he groans, hiding his face in the pillow again, probably so that I won’t see his red cheeks. Too late.

He acts like he’s pissed but I’m not sure it’s just that. I think that a part of him liked it. 

“You deserved it. I have barely _started_ to take revenge on you for all of that teasing, Basil. Besides, you’re complaining a lot for someone who’s being treated so well.”

I, a bit reluctantly, stop fingering him so that I can squeeze his butt with my hand, which must sting in a good way because his shoulders drop, relaxed. My other hand is between his ribs and the couch, like it has been since I gave him the phone, drawing circles on his skin. “Say sorry, Baz.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You talked back. All you ever do is _talk back._ ” I bend down to trail kisses up his spine until my lips are close to his ear. It’s a terribly uncomfortable position. I don’t care. “Sometimes I wish you could blow me just so that you could put your fucking mouth to good use, for once.”

He whimpers, turning his head in a way that probably hurts to try to catch my lips. I don’t let him. Instead, I sit back up. He surprises me when he sits too, pushing himself back as graciously as he can until he’s sitting on his heels next to me. He rests his hands flat on his thighs and looks at me with a look that could be described as sheepish if he wasn’t _Baz Pitch._ He’s cheeks are still wet and it should honestly not turn me on as much as it does.

“About that… I’ve been thinking about it, and, well since I can kiss and even bite your neck without my fangs making an unwanted appearance, I thought that it may actually be possible for me to go down on you. I… I feel it when my fangs are about to drop anyway so if they do I could just, you know, pull back. But, well, that’s… that’s up to you. If you want me to blow you… I’d really like to.”

**…**

**Baz**

His eyes go wide.

“You… You would actually blow me?”

The bloody moron seems surprised. As if I could possibly _not_ want to have him in my mouth.

“Yeah,” I tell him with a small smile.

The surprise painted on his features is replaced by the more neutral expression he tries to keep on his face when he’s bossing me around, and I feel a rush of anticipation course through me.

“Get on your knees then. On the floor.”

Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, yes.

I don’t even pretend to resist. I should probably not show him how eager I am to be doing this, I usually prefer to make him work for it before I let him see how much I’m enjoying what we’re doing, but I’m too turned on at the thought of finally tasting him to be a brat.

I settle between his spread legs, my face leveled with his crotch.

It strikes me that I’m naked while he’s still fully clothed. So clothed that he even has his belt and socks on. 

He really didn’t take _anything_ off while he made _me_ undress completely.

It’s so hot.

I reach for his belt, quickly undoing it, and then his trousers, that I tug down along with his underwear to let his cock spring free.

My mouth waters already. Aleister Crowley, I’m going to have it in my mouth. I can’t bloody wait.

“Simon,” I say on impulse. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, especially for a first time doing this, but it’s all I can think about as my eyes are on his gorgeous cock. “I have a request, sir.”

He hasn’t commented on the ‘sir’ thing, so I assumed he liked it. The way his pupils grow bigger when I say it proves me right. 

He drops his right hand to run it through my hair. _Pull it please._

“What is it?” he asks.

“Can you fuck my face?”

“What?” he blurts out, losing some of his composure. It’s so easy to make him lose his composure. He’s so expressive.

“Fuck my face,” I say again, with as much confidence as I can gather. “That way you can set the pace, and choose how deep you go. I want that. I want to please you, as best as I can.”

I feel pathetic admitting it, but there’s no disdain or mockery in his eyes. Only softness. And arousal, of course.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. And, uh, if you could… hold my hair, you know, to keep my head in place,” I say, and I’m sure my cheeks turn as pink as they get.

“Of course I could, love,” he answers, his hand tightening on my hair.

It makes me whimper.

Snow loves touching my hair, and Merlin knows that I love it when he pulls it. 

“Open your mouth, baby. Watch your teeth.”

He takes a shaky breath, and then he’s sitting closer to the edge of the couch, which inevitably brings his cock closer to my lips.

They’re only partly open right now. I wait until I feel his tip against them to open my mouth wide enough for him to slide his cock inside. Not much, barely more than the tip, but it feels like a lot already.

It feels like when he pushes inside me for the first time, always slowly, when we fuck. It’s so little, and so much at the same time.

“Baz,” he says, to bring my attention to his face. He shows me his hand and then look at my own hands, resting on my lap, making me understand that he he wants to hold them, for whatever reason. So I raise them until he can take hold of them, and he simply squeezes them lightly before resting them on his knees. “Squeeze once if you’re okay, twice if you want me to go slower, three times if you want me to pull out, okay?”

I squeeze once. He smiles proudly, like I just did something great. Maybe he’s just glad I’m listening to what he says.

“Good. I’m… I’m going to move now, if that’s fine with you?”

I squeeze once again.

His smile gets a bit softer before he rests his hand on the sofa, probably for balance, and finally pushes deeper inside me. My lips are stretched around him and I probably look bloody ridiculous from his point of view but the weight of his cock on my tongue is well worth looking like a fool. I try moving my tongue, kind of like Simon does when he blows me, but it’s more tedious than I thought it would be. He’s so much bigger, or my mouth is so much smaller, than I thought it would be.

He’s not doing what I asked him too, though. He’s just pushing his cock inside, not _fucking my face._ To encourage him to do so, I move my head back and then bring it closer to him again, making him experience how it feels. He groans lowly, and his hand grips my hair more tightly, and then he fucking starts moving his hips.

It’s fucking glorious.

I can tell that he’s controlling himself not to go too deep, but he’s going hard, and it feels so incredibly good, and he’s making all those obscene moans and pulling my hair and it’s so, it’s so…

I moan around his cock when he pushes a bit further down my throat, so far that my nose is pressed against his skin. I don’t have much of a gag reflex but it still makes tears spring to my eyes.

_It’s fucking amazing._

“Baz…” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s just calling my name or just asking a question, but just in case, I squeeze his knees one. 

If he stops I might cry.

Thank Merlin, he _doesn’t_ stop, thrusting faster and faster as he gets closer to orgasm, and I’m just there, with my mouth open, letting him use me to get off, and it’s the hottest fucking thing. 

Soon, much too soon, Snow says, his breathing laboured as his hand on my head gets softer, massaging my scalp more than pulling my hair. “I’m gonna come. Want me to pull back? Once for yes twice for no.”

I squeeze twice. 

“Oh thank God,” he says with a sigh of relief as he thrusts more urgently. I’d probably laugh if his cock wasn’t in my mouth.

Only seconds after, his hand is gripping my hair again as he shudders.

I don’t know what drives me more crazy. His come on my lips, or my name on his.

**…**

**Simon**

It takes me some time to clear my head after I move back, but once I do, I see that Baz hasn’t moved, still kneeling in between my legs, and still hard. Thank Merlin. I don’t want him to come just yet. He’s probably caught up on that because he hasn’t even tried to stroke himself. 

He looks lovely like that, really, but his knees must hurt. 

I tuck myself back in my underwear and close my jeans and belt before I say “Come here,” as I open one of my arms, an invitation for Baz to cuddle up to me.

I know that gentle isn’t what he wants today, but I _need_ to cuddle him a bit after I come and I’m selfish, so we’re going to do that, and then I’ll find something else to do to him. I have one or two things in mind that I wanted to try.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem too bothered when he comes and sit next to me, my arm around him. On the contrary, he lets out a soft, pleased sigh when I kiss his temple.

I then turn my head to look at him, giving him a sweet smile before bringing my lips to his. I can’t believe we haven’t kissed since we started this. 

He doesn’t taste like he usually does. I suppose that’s the aftertaste of my come. In his mouth. Jesus Christ.

“You were amazing, love,” I tell him when I move back. I kiss his cheek, which is still a bit wet, and then wipe it with my free hand, as well as his other cheek. “You’ve been so good to me. Thank you.”


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the sex, part 2

**Baz**

“The table of the dining room?” I say, skeptical, when Simon puts me down on it.

The wood is bloody cold. 

“Well, it’d be a pity if we just stayed on the couch.” He runs his hands up and down my thighs as he speaks. It’s nice and warm, but I really wish he’d touch me elsewhere. “It’s too much like being in your room, you know?”

“And of all of the rooms there are in this house, you chose the one where we _eat_ to fuck me.”

“Oh, but babe, who said anything about fucking?” he says with a wicked smile. “It’s not time for that yet.”

“Are you kidding me?”

The bastard _laughs_ . I’m never teasing him like I did again. I should have known that it would end up turning against me. He has a thing for making me wait, which is very great at first, but we started this whole thing a while ago and I _need_ to come. It’s easy for him, he just did. Motherfucker.

He strokes my cheek tenderly. “I’m far from done with you. By the time I start _considering_ fucking you, you’ll be begging for my cock like the slut you are, Pitch.”

“In your wildest fucking dreams.”

Technically, saying that wouldn’t be a smart move at all, but right now, his hand is on my _cheek_ so maybe if I push him a little he will…

I bore my eyes into his to try and tell him what I want without actually _saying it_. 

I tilt my head slightly, rubbing it against his palm as I add, spitting the word out with as much disdain as I can “Snow.”

As fast as his hand leaves my cheek, it’s back, slapping me with a loud sound that echoes in the room. 

Thank fucking Merlin, the burn feels so good.

“You never listen, do you?” Snow says, his voice dangerously sweet. “I told you, _multiple times_ , I might add, not to talk back. So now you’re going to shut the fuck up unless it’s to say nice things, or I’ll gag you. And I’ll be _very_ angry if I have to gag you. Understood?”

I’ve got what I wanted, so I slip back into a more submissive attitude. I don’t know what he likes more, when I don’t listen, or when I do. I don’t know what _I_ like more. I love when he talks to me like that, irritation in his voice, but I also love it when I comply and he praises me.

“Yes, sir.”

“So you’re going to be good now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he says before he leans in to kiss me.

He hasn’t said anything about keeping my hands to myself, so I wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer.

It’s a slow kiss, the kind I usually prefer. I’m expecting him to make it deeper, rougher, biting my lip and grabbing my arse in a very Snow fashion, but no, he stays so excruciatingly soft, his thumb stroking my cheekbone while he holds my waist gently with his other hand.

When he pulls back, he moves his hand that’s on my cheek down to my waist too, and presses a kiss where he just slapped me before whispering in my ear “You wanted that, right? The slap.”

He’s so caring it makes my heart clench. He always makes sure to ask whether I’m enjoying myself or not, when my reactions aren’t telling enough or when he needs some reassurance that he isn’t doing anything I dislike.

He should honestly not have so much consideration for me. I’d let him do whatever he wants, so long as it gives him pleasure. I’ve told him that, but he seems determined on doing things that feel good _to me_. 

“Yes. That’s something you can do again, I like it,” I answer.

“Okay. I wasn’t 100% sure.”

He kisses my cheek once again, for good measure, and then he’s back in character, looking at me with those eyes that make me feel like I’m his prey. It’s a strange feeling for a vampire used to being the predator, but not an unwanted one. When he’s like that, telling me what to and what not to do, making the world around us disappear until all I can focus on is _him_ , his hands, his lips, his tongue, his cock, I feel like I can truly relax. Stop thinking, give up control. I surrender to him completely, trust him to take care of me and it’s so fucking liberating.

“There’s something I wanted to try with you. Something we haven’t done before.”

Interesting.

Did he get his idea from porn? I know he’s been watching porn - _gay_ porn- on my laptop; the fool doesn’t know incognito mode is a thing, apparently, and he even let a tab open once. 

“I want you on your stomach,” he continues. “Your legs hanging from the table. Now.”

I’m a bit puzzled by that request, Simon usually _doesn’t_ want me on my stomach. It had to be like that when he spanked me, I’m surprised he’d do something that requires me to be in a position that doesn’t allow him to see my face once again. I obey nonetheless, lying down on my back first and then turning around as gracefully as I can. My nipples are pressed against the cold, hard wood, the same way my cock is against the edge of the table, and I’m so sensitive, and it’s so much and not enough contact at the same time. I want to move, to get some friction, but I know Snow won’t like that.

He steps forward until he can grab my thighs, holding them up instead of letting my legs down, and settling in between them. The rough material of his jeans feels wonderful against my bare arse.

I can feel that he isn’t hard yet though, and that makes me frown. He’s come a long enough time ago to be hard again, I know that, he’s got a second hard on after coming much faster than that in the past, so why isn’t he hard? Am I doing something wrong? 

I followed his orders, if seeing me in that position didn’t turn him on, why did he ask me to lie like that? Or is it the slap? Did he do it because he understood I wanted it but didn’t like doing it? He liked spanking me, but hitting my face isn’t the same thing. 

I startle when I feel his lips between my shoulder blades. “You’re tense,” he whispers, his breath on my skin. “Why is that? Do you not like being on your stomach? Or is it because the table is too uncomfortable? Do you want to be in another position? To go somewhere else? It’s fine if you do, I won’t be disappointed.”

I could cry. He’s so good to me. I don’t deserve such attention and care.

“You’re not hard,” I answer, suddenly very happy about the fact that he can’t see my face in this position.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“You’re not hard. That’s the problem. You’re having sex with me and you’re not hard, I must be doing something wrong.”

“Oh, Baz.” He kisses me on the same spot he did before. “You’re not doing anything wrong, love. You’re doing amazing, I promise. And don’t worry about me, I’ll be hard soon enough,” he says, his voice getting more seductive at the end of his sentence.

And then he’s trailing feather light kisses down my spine. So I suppose we’re done talking.

I arrange my arms to rest my forehead on instead of on the table, and I try focusing on Snow’s mouth on my back and his hands on my thighs, and only that. 

Quickly enough, it isn’t difficult to solely focus on him, because the fucking nightmare gets down on his knees and starts kissing my arse the same way he does everywhere else, a lot of soft kisses, the occasional lick, and playful bites.

It’s not difficult figuring out where this is going, and just thinking about it makes me shiver.

**…**

**Simon**

Okay, so I’m not sure about this.

I mean, I’m sure that I want to do it, I’m not sure how to do it well. It’s not like I went and looked for a tutorial on how to eat my boyfriend’s arse.

I let go of his thighs to free my hands in order to put them on his hips, lifting them and using my thumb to spread his cheeks apart a bit. I have a _wonderful_ view of his arse, and it makes me want to curse his vampirism again. His skin is perfectly pale again, no trace of the lovely pink shade it had taken when I spanked him. 

I so wish I could leave marks that _last_ on him. It makes me feel so warm inside when I see the love bites he gives me in the mirror, I just know it’d drive me crazy if I could see love bites and bruises on him, love bites and bruises that would be here because I put them there, because he’s _mine_ and he _let me_ put them there.

After taking the sight of him in for a little while, I go back to kissing him, getting closer to his hole.

He isn’t making any sounds, but I can feel him tremble under my hands and lips so I suppose this is fine so far.

Hesitantly, I duck my head and lick a stripe along his buttcrack, and this time he gasps, babbling something incoherent that sounds kind of like my name.

It gives me all the assurance I need to put my tongue on him again, teasing around his hole, much like I do with my cock, sometimes, when I want him to get beautifully frustrated. 

I suppose I’ll have to put my tongue _inside_ then but I’m too unsure about that step right now, so instead, I keep licking around it, nipping at the skin sometimes, all while my thumbs rub his buttocks lightly. I probably shouldn’t be so tender, he told me he didn’t want me to be gentle, but I don’t hear him complain. 

After some more long, probably very long for him if his whines and attempts to rub his cock against the table are anything to go by, minutes, I eventually try to slip my tongue inside him. 

He feels just as warm there are he does around my fingers or my cock.

His reaction is immediate. He moans, his hand no longer supporting his head but looking for something to grip. Of course, the table is a flat, solid surface, so his only option is to hold onto the sides of it to give his hands purpose. “Fuck, Simon.”

My lips quirk up, and then I’m twisting my tongue inside him, pushing it as far as I can get, which isn’t far at all but considering the sinful noises Baz makes, it’s enough to feel _great._

So I keep doing this, moving my tongue inside him, listening to his incoherent babbling -I do catch some words, “deeper” and “good” and “fuck”, for instance-, relishing the way he rocks his hips back, desperate to get _more._

I bring him to the brink of orgasm with my tongue, and when I see that he’s about to go over the edge, his thigh tensing and his moans getting louder and louder, I stop. 

His frustrated groan brings a smile to my lips. 

“Simon, Simon please don’t, please Simon I’m so close, don’t stop I need to come, please, please, please,” he says, his breathing heavy, slurring.

It’s brilliant. 

He pushes his hips back, looking for a contact that doesn’t come “ _Simon, please_ ,” he says one more time, a sob in his voice. 

I wait a few seconds, just look at the state of him. His hands are still gripping the edges of the table, so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if he got straight marks in his hands when he lets go. There’s precum on the table and spit dripping from his hole. It’s entirely too erotic.

I palm myself through my jeans, and then I say, trying not to sound as amused as I am “No.”

He groans again.

“You… you’re so… you’re such a…”

“Be very careful about what you’re going to say next if you want to come at all tonight.”

“You’re _cruel_ ,” he whines.

“I could be so much more cruel, love,” I tell him as I bend down, my body aligning with his but not quite touching him, to level my face with his. He’s got the left side of his face pressed against the pillow, but I don’t need to see his whole face to see how much of a mess he is. His lips are swollen from being bitten, his cheek pink and tears are rolling down his face, some of them stuck on his beautiful long eyelashes. 

He’s truly a vision.

“If I was really cruel, I’d leave you here, trembling and crying for a release you won’t get. But instead, since I’m good to you, I’ll give you some time to calm down and then, I’ll fuck you, how about that?”

“Please,” he says, nodding messily. “Please do that.”

“I’m going to, love,” I tell him with the same kind of voice I’d use to tell him comforting words if he was crying -well, crying for another reason- as I tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. 

I lean down to kiss his temple, and then I straighten my back. That really wasn’t a comfortable position to hold. 

I don’t want him to think I’m going anywhere, so I quickly go sit on the chair closer to his face, my hand reaching for his. His eyes still look a bit lost and foggy, so I know he isn’t completely back from the rush of pleasure. 

I bring his hand to my mouth, kissing his knuckles, and I feel no resistance whatsoever when I raise his arm, like he had no muscles in it. He must be so far gone, to let go so completely. 

That’s great. That’s what I want. I want to make it so good for him, so incredibly good. 

Baz isn’t someone who relaxes easily. Even when we’re cuddling at night, chatting or watching some show, he’s still a bit tense, always alert. Right now I think the word could fall apart around us and he wouldn’t notice. 

He looks up at me when he feels my lips on his knuckles, and the smile he gives me, a soft, honest smile makes my heart loop the loop in my chest.

I love him so fucking much, I…

“I love you,” I blurt out before I can give it too much thought.

I _didn’t_ want to say I love you for the first time during sex, but I’ve come a long time ago, I can’t blame it on orgasm, so it doesn’t count as doing it during sex, right?

Baz’s eyes go wide as his head shoots up, and his hand shakes slightly on mine. He had stopped crying, but more tears start coming. 

Shit, I didn’t want to make him cry. 

“You… you do?” he says like he can’t believe it. 

“Yes. Yes I do, Baz. I love you,” I repeat, because the word sound so beautiful, because it feels so good to finally say them.

After I say that, I let go of his hand and stand from the chair, rushing to where I was before I sat here at the same time as he turns around on the table, ending up sitting like he was when I put him down on it. I wrap my arms around him as soon as I can, pulling him so close that we might merge together. 

It’s probably a lot for him, me telling him this when he was still so lost in pleasure, so I let him rest his head on my shoulder, rubbing his back and pretending not to feel the wetness of his tears.

I really didn’t think it’d make him _cry_ , but now that I think about it, Baz is an emotional bloke, even if he doesn’t show it, and he told me he’d been in love with me for a long time, so I suppose it makes sense.

I know that he’s better when he says, with his usual, irritating voice “Cuddling is nice, Snow, but I’m pretty sure you said something about fucking me.”

“Are you sure you still want that? For me to _fuck_ you?”

I know he understands that I’m not wondering if he might want to stop, but that I’m asking if he doesn’t want me to _make love_ to him instead. That I want to know if we continue what we were doing, or if we completely change the way things were going.

I’d be sad to lose the feeling of his head on the crook of my neck if I wasn’t immediately drowning in his moon grey eyes. “No, I don’t want you to fuck me, Simon.” 

Well, I’m fine with that.

He doesn’t seem to be done, though, because he leans in, until his lips are only a breath away from my ear. “I want you to wreck me.”

I’m the one who shudders this time. Fuck, there’s really something about hearing him say those dirty things with his stupid fucking posh accent that drives me mad.

I’m fine with that too, though.

“Ok. I want to bend you over,” I tell him.

I’ve never fucked him like that, always on his back, but I want to try. See it feels better, to compensate for the fact that I can’t see his face. 

“Here?”

“Do you have any better idea? The kitchen counter is too high, the tables of the library too small, and I don’t want to go in any of the rooms lost behind the stairs. Our only other option would be your dad’s office,” I snort. 

There’s a catch in his breathing.

Oh. _Oh._

I hold his chin between my thumb and index finger to force him to look me in the eyes.

“Would you like me to fuck you in your father’s office, Basil?” 

He gulps. “Yes.”

“Good then,” I smile as I start trailing my hand down his neck.

I intend to go play with his nipples to tease him a bit before I carry him to _his father’s bloody office_ but he stops my hand on his neck, positioning his own hand over mine to put it around his throat, my thumb on one side, the rest of my fingers on the other.

“That,” he says, his eyes closed, pushing down on my hand to make it tighten around his neck ever so slightly. “Feels good. Please, when you fuck me… if I ask you…”

Does he want…

“You want me to _choke_ you?” I say, skeptical, putting emphasis on the word.

It shouldn’t surprise as much as it does, honestly. He was getting off on being hit, earlier.

His cheeks turn pink and he looks away.

Fuck no that’s not what I meant to do.

“Hey, love, don’t be embarrassed,” I tell him softly. “Don’t be ashamed of telling me what you’re into, it makes it easier for me to make you feel good. You know all I want is to make you feel good. I’m sorry I reacted like that, I was surprised. So you want me to do that to you when we fuck?”

I tighten my grip on his neck once again, only for a second, and I’m rewarded with a pleased sigh as he nods. “If I tell you to, yes, please.”

“Okay. Anything else to tell me before we get to the good part?” I ask, a smirk on my lips.

“Nothing else, sir.”

Merlin, he’ll kill me with this word.

I slide my hands under his thighs to hold him up, and he wraps his around my neck for balance. “Here we go then.”

“Simon! The table, it’s dirty.”

“It’s a shame you don’t have your wand to clean it, then.”

**…**

**Baz**

The bastard won’t give me my wand to clean my precum off the table of the dining room but he does give it to me so that I can spell away all the stuff on my father’s desk so that he can lie me down on it without risking knocking something down. I guess he has his priorities.

**…**

**Simon**

He’s beautiful like that, lying on his back on his dad’s desk, the dark wood contrasting beautifully with his pale skin. 

And he’s still so hard.

Crowley, I can’t wait to finally make him come.

“Are you planning on undressing before the next century?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow.

He’s much more talkative now that he’s back to reality.

“Or I could just get my dick out and fuck you like that.”

I won’t. I want to be naked as much as he wants me naked. 

“ _Or_ you could undress.”

“Someone’s impatient to see me naked,” I tease him, fidgeting the hem of my shirt.

“I’ve been waiting all bloody week.”

I chuckle. “And whose fault is that, huh?”

That shuts him up. Good.

My shirt is soon only a memory, and I feel his eyes fixed on my hands when they unbuckle my belt and unbutton my jeans. What _my_ eyes are fixed on are _his_ hands, for one of them is tugging at his cock.

I suck my teeth, slapping his wrist. “Who told you you could touch yourself?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

That motherfucker.

“Well now I do. Don’t fucking touch yourself. _I_ decide when you come, and _I_ make you come. All _you_ have to do is take my cock up your arse and wait until I want you to come. That all you’re good for, anyway,” I tell him, running the hand that just slapped him through his hair. “Taking cock like a slut. Isn’t that right?”

He nods, his pupils blown.

“Words, Basil.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right sir, it’s all I’m good for.”

I give him a smile, before I start working on my jeans again. I _really_ need to get them off, along with my pants. I let them fall on the floor and step out of them, feeling Baz’s burning gaze on my cock, and then on my arse as I bend down to take my belt.

When I straighten my back with the belt in hand, he looks at me curiously.

“Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I’ll tie them. Turn around, lie like you did in the dining room.”

He doesn’t put up a fight and immediately obeys. I think he’s nearing the limit of his control.

“Look at you, so eager. You need to get fucked, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” I ask as he offers me his wrists for me to bound them. “Say it.”

Having been taught from a young age how to restrain an enemy with what I have on me is finally really paying off, I think as I tie my belt around his wrists, tight enough to leave burn marks, even on him, I think, but not tight enough that it’d cut off his blood circulation.

“I need your cock, sir,” he answers, his voice breathy.

“And you’re going to get it.”

Before, I have to stretch him though. But there’s a problem…

“We don’t have lube.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your tongue was in my arse forever, and you fingered me a bit earlier, that’s enough.”

He really thinks I’m going to buy that?

“No it’s not.”

“It’s not your arse, I’m telling you it’s enough. For Merlin’s sake will you just _get on with it._ ”

The frustration is so obvious in his voice. I understand why he’s frustrated, though. The sun was barely starting to set when we started. Now it’s dark, and he hasn’t come once.

But he brought this on himself, after all. 

“I’m going to finger you. Two fingers, at least.” He groans. “And you are going to shut up and wait. If you start giving me attitude again, it’ll be three fingers, and I’ll take as much time as I did our first time.”

He still complains about how long it took me to _finally_ fuck him that day, so that should be enough of a threat for him to actually shut his fucking mouth for a while.

I want to tease him, but I don’t have it in me to wait forever before pushing inside him, so I make quick, though careful, work of opening him up with my fingers, listening to his sighs and whimpers, and then I spit on my hand to spread it on my cock, lining myself up with his hole when I’m done. I see his shoulders dip down, his body relaxing completely. 

“Look at you, so eager,” I tell him as I lean down to kiss his back. 

And then I move my hips forward, moaning with him as our bodies meet, a relief after so long without doing this. I move slow, I always do when I first push inside, to give him time to get used to it -it’s particularly necessary today since we didn’t use proper lube- and once I’m fully inside him, I rest my hands flat on the desk, around his hips, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of _Baz_ all around me. 

“I fit so well inside you. It’s like you were made for this. Made for my cock.”

“Yes…”

I want to start thrusting, I desperately want to, to feel the heat of his body, to draw those sounds I love so much out of him, to bring him and myself to orgasm, but first, I have to ask “Basil, what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“Anathema.”

“Good boy,” I tell him, bending down to kiss his back again.

I love kissing his spine, it’s one of my favourite spots to kiss him, because it makes him shiver slightly every time.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Please don’t wait anymore, I’ve waited enough, please fuck me,” he begs, his voice plaintive, probably fearing I’m going to choose to tease him some more. 

I couldn’t. All I can do is oblige him.

I pull back, excruciatingly slowly, only to slam back in, and _holy fuck_ I can’t believe how much deeper I can go. It’s so good, it’s so fucking good.

I hope it’s good for him too. 

I hope I’m doing a good job at _wrecking him._

**…**

**Malcolm**

I hear it the moment I open the door.

Sounds I really wish I’d never have to hear _._

 _Moans._ Skin slapping against skin.

“Si… Simon, fuck… ah… cho… choke me _please.”_

I grab the twins’ hands, and we’re out of the house in an instant, the door slamming shut. 

“Daddy, home?” Ophelia asks.

“We’ll come back home later, sweetheart. Daddy changed his mind, we’re going to eat in town like Mummy said after all, would you like that girls?”

They both answer with an excited “Yes.”. If I wasn’t holding their hands, I’m sure they’d be running towards Daphne, who’s already halfway to the house, Octavia in her arms.

She gives me a puzzled look when she seems me heading in her direction with the girls.

**…**

**Daphne**

Malcolm looks mildly sick.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” I ask, adjusting Octavia in my arms. She’s trying to wriggle her way into her _father’s_ arms.

“We’re having dinner in town,” he answers, clearing his throat.

“I thought you wanted to have dinner with the boys?”

“Daddy changed mind,” Ophelia explains, looking up at me with her big eyes.

I give her a smile, booping her nose, before turning my attention back on Malcolm.

“Why did you change your mind?”

He _blushes._ It takes a lot to make him blush.

Merlin, were the boys still…

He hasn’t quite recovered from how our call with Baz ended -I must say it wasn’t pleasant for me either- but it was so long ago, they can’t still be...

“It seems that Basil and Mr Snow will need the house to themselves for a little bit longer,” Malcolm answers, visibly uncomfortable.

Aleister Crowley, it must be good, being 18.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A minute of silence for Malcolm, please, that poor man is going to be traumatized 
> 
> I listened to Heathers while writing this and when Dead Girl Walking was playing all I could think about was that Baz was getting his “slap me, pull my hair, touch me there and there and there” moment 
> 
> also fun fact, Simon saying “I love you” now wasn’t planned AT ALL but uh I had a random impulse to reread some of the parts in Wayward Son that broke me (terrible idea) and that made me want to make him say that because I was frustrated he never did in canon lmao


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cannot think of a best way to describe this chapter than :  
> Simon : *takes care of Baz*  
> Baz : *is sappy*  
> Simon : *AGGRESSIVELY takes care of Baz*  
> Baz : *is angsty*
> 
> ah, and there’s some blood involved which is completely self indulgent because i’m a whore for vampire stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING 
> 
> mentions of self harm in the two last POVs. 
> 
> If you want to skip those parts, I advise you stop reading after “Don’t go making a mess of my bathroom by doing that so far from me.” when it switches back to Baz’s POV

**Simon**

His skin doesn’t feel so cold under mine anymore. I’ve been lying on his back for so long, trying to catch my breath and calm the frenetic beating of my heart. Baz could probably feel it pounding against his back when I collapsed on top of him. 

“Wanna go cuddle upstairs?” I ask him, running a finger up and down his arm. 

“I’d love that but I’m not sure my legs will be able to carry me up the stairs,” he answers, his voice still breathier than usual. 

“I could carry you, if it comes to this.”

I press one last kiss on his shoulders, and the I’m straightening my back, standing up. I miss the feeling of his bare skin on mine already. 

“I’m going to go get your clothes, okay love? Bring them back to your room with mine and then I’ll come for you,” I say as I pick my jeans and shirt up from the floor.

I had tucked our wands in one of my front pockets and his phone was still in my back pocket when I undressed, so I collect those three items and keep them in one of my hands. It’s the best way to make sure they don’t fall from the pockets.

“I’ll be waiting.”

If the way he yawns after he says that is anything to go by, he surely isn’t going anywhere while I’m away.

I take my wand in hand, a bit hesitant. Casting spells always scare me a bit, especially on people, but Baz would probably fuck up more than me if he tried using his wand now. “ **Clean as a whistle.** ” I cast on him. As much as I enjoy the idea of seeing my come dripping down his thigh when he’ll stand up, he said that it was a sensation that made him uncomfortable, so it’s best to _clean_ him.

He whimpers and I know the spell worked. “You have to do the desk too. My father would probably kill us if there were cum stains here after he left us the house for the day.”

I mean… his father probably _already_ knows we fucked in his office… Did Baz not hear the door slam?

Oh my God I think he didn’t.

I won’t tell him. He’ll be mortified.

Anyway, cleaning the desk isn’t a bad idea, so I cast the spell again there after Baz rolled over. His chest is heaving slowly and his eyes are still a tad foggy. It makes me smile. He’s so fucking beautiful after we’ve had sex, especially when we have sex like we did like that, for a long, very long time. 

“I’m coming back, don’t fall asleep,” I tease him, leaning in.

He closes his eyes when I kiss him, a pleased smile escaping his lips when I pull back.

“You should get on the armchair, it’d be more comfortable.”

“Can’t move,” he groans as an answer, his eyes still closed.

I can’t help but giggle. “Fine then, don’t move.”

**…**

I collect his clothes where he left them, spell the dinner table clean -my magic is working well today, let’s put it to good use- and then I’m on my way up the stairs, towards his room. I hope his parents won’t decide to come back now. I’m very much _naked_ and so is Baz, but I wasn’t about to make him put clothes on when I’d have taken them off once we’d be in his room. Sleeping naked next to him is something I particularly enjoy, and anyhow, I want to take a bath with him. A hot bath will do him good, and there’s plenty of room so I can get inside it with him. 

Therefore, after dropping our clothes on his desk -folding his, because he’ll be a prick about it if I don’t- I go to the bathroom to turn the water on, and then I’m going back to his dad’s office to collect _him_.

I don’t even ask him to stand up, I just slip my arms under his knees and behind his head to carry him bridal style. He rests his head on my shoulder, humming appreciatively. My heart is going to burst in my chest.

I’m rather strong, so it’s not that hard carrying him, but he’s still heavy and the stairs are a bit of a challenge, but I manage. 

“Why is there water running?” he asks, his voice slow like when he just woke up as we enter his room.

“We’re going to take a bath. I thought you might enjoy it, you know, to relax. You’ve been so tense, today,” I say, laughter in my voice.

“I would have been much less if you’d fucked me sooner instead of making me wait.”

“You cried when you came Basil, that cancels your right to complain about anything I did to you. You loved it.”

I lay him carefully on the bathtub, turning off the water as it’s getting close to the edge and I’m not even in it yet. Then, I go get Baz’s wand -he doesn’t like not having it near- which I put on a little piece of furniture that I’ve moved so that it’s next to the bathtub, before I dive in the water with him. He has his back against the bathtub, so I suppose he wants me between his legs. I was expecting the contrary, but it’s true that Baz loves holding me more than he likes being held. I asked him why he would rather hold me because I _adore_ the feeling of safety and peace I have when his arms are around me, and I didn’t understand why he’d not want that, and he told me something incredibly soft about how he’s dreamed about making me his for so long that he isn’t quite sure it’s not a dream, and holding me comforts him because I’m right there, solid and _real_ in his embrace.

He kisses my shoulder “Thank you.”

“For the sex?”I say with a smile.

I know it’s not what he means, but I want to hear his irritated sigh. 

“For this day, you moron. I didn’t think I needed to be alone with you this much, but I did and I’m glad we got to have that. It’s going to sound silly, but… I don’t think I had really realized that we were a couple until today.”

I frown, craning my neck to look at that. 

“Let me make sense of my thoughts and I’ll explain,” he says, leaning against the edge of the bathtub a bit more, which causes us to be more lying than sitting on the water. 

He uses the fact that I laid my hands on his to intertwine our fingers. It takes him a couple more seconds to say “Technically, I’ve _known_ we were together since we decided it. I knew you were my boyfriend and all that, but… well, during the week we spent at Watford, our days were pretty much the same as they’d been since we had started being friends, except with a lot more sex, the one thing we really did like a couple was the sex, and lots of people who aren’t couples still have sex together, you know? And then we came here and we spent so much time downstairs, with my family, we didn’t get to really act like a couple, except at night, but all we did at night was chatting or watching shows but once again, it’s something we did before we got together. While today… it felt more real, us being a couple. I… We didn’t spend the day shagging, and my family wasn’t here to interfere, so we really got to spend time together, exactly like I imagined being in a relationship would be like. I read the book to you and you slept on my lap. We watched the television together, we talked, we cuddled. We were just… together. No kissing, no under the belt touching, just time spent enjoying each other’s present. And there was lunch… Merlin, it’s ridiculous, but I felt so stupidly happy to be cooking with you, doing something so mundane, so domestic, I could have cried. I… When I saw you washing the dishes as I cleaned the kitchen, that’s when it really hit me that we were… a couple. That this domesticity, it could be our daily life, someday. That spending time with you didn’t have to be something we did half naked or practically on top of each other. It’s… _My parents_ cook together, on Sundays. It’s something they’ve always done, ever since Daphne moved in here, religiously every week, and doing it with you it was so heartwarming. It made me think of a future I hadn’t envisioned before. A future where we spend time together because we _live_ together, a future where we cook for each other every day, a future where I scold you for putting your mess all over our flat and you complain because I stay up too late, a future where I kiss you goodbye before going to work and you have a gold band on your ring finger. A future with you. As a couple.” There’s a softness in his voice that makes my heart ache. “Anyway, all of this probably didn’t make sense to you, I’m just being ridiculously sappy, don’t mind me,” he adds quickly, letting go of my hands.

**…**

**Baz**

Crowley, I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m going to make Snow freak out with my stupid fantasies of a future with him. We’ve been dating for so little time and I’m already talking about wedding rings, fucking hell.

The thing is, with someone else, it’d be okay to already be thinking about marriage as an option. We’re mages in our eight year, most of our classmates who are in a relationship are considering marriage, that’s just the way things are for us. I know for a fact that Niall and Dev have planned to get married around a year and a half after we’re done with school. There hasn’t been an official proposal yet, but that’s only because Dev wants to make it special. Snow told me Bunce was already thinking of what she’ll do to propose to her American boyfriend. It’s _normal_ , in our world. We marry young, have children young. If by the time you’re twenty five you haven’t started a family, you’ve failed your life.My mother’s decision to finish her studies before marrying my father and having me was widely frowned upon. Mages like my aunt are exceptions, I barely know three other adult mages as old as her who haven’t settled with someone. 

But Snow didn’t grow up in this world. He doesn’t have the same vision of all of this as I do. Normals marry on average much later than mages, same for having children. To him, 18 year olds talking about marriage _isn’t_ normal.

He reaches behind himself with his hand to grab one of my mine, despite my best efforts to keep it to myself, and he rubs the back of my hand with his thumb, forming circles.

“When I watch you with your sisters, playing dolls with Ophelia, helping Mordelia with her homework, rocking Octavia in your arms, kissing Cordelia’s little injuries better, I imagine watching you do that with children that call you dad.”

That’s it, I’m going to cry again.

**…**

**Simon**

He doesn’t answer anything and I’m afraid it was too much, telling him that, but then his arms are back around me, tighter than they were before, and he buries his face between my shoulder blades. “I love you so much. Thank you for being as much of a romantic fool as I am.”

I laugh at that. “My pleasure.”

He kisses me, cold lips against warm skin. “I hope we’ll have a life like that, you and I. I really hope so.”

“I hope so too, love.”

**…**

After Baz settled back against the edge of the tub, his head resting on it, I did the talking. I know he’s exhausted, so I don’t ask him questions or try to start a conversation, I just say whatever is on my mind, because I know my voice relaxes him. He told me I had the kind of voice one could listen to for hours. I’d think he only said that because he’s in love if his little _hadn’t_ spent hours listening to me tell them stories.

He breathes deep and slow, and the only thing that tells me he didn’t actually fall asleep is the fact that his thumb has been absentmindedly stroking my wrist the whole time.

Which is why I’m surprised when he pushes himself up in a sitting position.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to go feed. I haven’t in a while.”

“What does ‘a while’ mean?”

I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like his answer. I asked him about his feeding, once, and he told me that he needed blood every day to feel good, and every couple of days to stay sane.

Now that I think about it, it’s true that I haven’t seen him go feed since we arrived at his parents’, but he isn’t with me most of the day so he could very well be going while I’m playing with the girls or helping Daphne, or at night once I’m asleep -the fucker stays up until ungodly hours almost every night. I always fall asleep before him.

He gulps. I’m _definitely_ not going to like his answer.

“Basil, how long?”

“I… I haven’t been since we came here. I went on our first night and then I didn’t.”

Aleister Crowley, he can be so stupid sometimes.

“A week, Baz? For fuck’s sake, why?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t like doing it. If I can avoid it, I do. But I’m starting to be much too weak and thirsty, so now I have to,” he says with irritation in his voice.

It’s at the situation he’s irritated, not at me, I know that, but it hurts me to hear it all the same. I wish he didn’t feel this way about something he _needs_ to do to stay healthy -well, as healthy as Baz gets. He isn’t exactly an example of health, even when he’s just fed.

I’m pretty sure it’s because he doesn’t drink human blood. I’ve encountered a couple of vampires, and none of them looked as pale or sickly as Baz does. 

He grips the edge of the bathtub for support to stand up, and I see his arms trembling with effort.

“Baz, sit down,” I tell him, grabbing one of his wrists. 

“I _have_ to go, Snow.”

“Sit. Down.” I tell him dryly. “You can barely hold yourself up, you were half asleep two minutes ago, you’re not going anywhere.”

I turn around as best as I can -thank Merlin it’s a huge bathtub- and force him to get down, pulling on his hips. It makes water splash on the floor, but at least he’s _sitting._

“You’re staying here. I swear I’ll cast a Stay put on you if you move, and you don’t want me to cast a Stay put on you. I don’t master this spell as well as the cleaning spell and we both know how unpredictable my magic gets.”

“And how do you suggest I feed if I can’t get out of the bathroom?” he snarls.

I glare at him in a way that I hope looks half as annoyed as when he glares at me, and then I’m out of the bathtub in one swift motion.

I reach for his wand -I _will_ cast a spell on him if he moves, that was not an empty threat- before I walk towards the sink. I feel his eyes boring into me the whole time.

“What the fuck are you doing, Snow?”

“I have blood, don’t I?” I tell him, looking at him through the mirror. 

His face falls. “Snow. Simon. No.”

“I’m not letting you go hunt. And you _need_ blood, since you were stupid enough not to sustain yourself for a week. So I’m going to give you mine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head, trying to push himself up again.

“Oh, shut up. You already drank some of it this morning. And I told you not to move,” I tell him, waving his wand in the mirror.

He sits back, with an exasperated sigh.

“I drank it because you had a cut. And you practically forced me to.”

That’s not _exactly_ true and we both know it. 

“You don’t have a cut right now,” he continues.

“Not yet,” I say. “Close your eyes.”

“No. Snow you are not injuring yourself because I’m a bloodthirsty beast. I’ll go to the goddamn woods and hunt.”

I wish he’d bloody stop calling me Snow. 

“Yeah, and faint on the way there? You… You fucking moron! And don’t fucking talk about yourself like that. You’re a lot of things but you’re not a beast. Now stop looking at me.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

Crowley, does he have to make everything so difficult.

“Baz,” I say, gripping the edge of the counter of the sink. He’s driving me mad. He knows I won’t let him leave, so why can’t he just fucking comply and not be an enormous pain in my arse for once in his fucking life. He’s so fucking frustrating. “Let me put it simply. I’m going to cut myself. I don’t want _you_ to look at that.”

He doesn’t let anything show, his face having the same slightly angry look on it as before I said it. It frustrates me even more. My hands are shaking. My eyes burn. I know he can see all of that, in the mirror, and yet it doesn’t stop him from saying, with his pretentious voice I hate so much. “Considering you’re doing it to then force me to drink your blood, I’d say I can watch.”

I punch the marble of the counter. It hurts but I don’t even care. 

“No you can’t! Jesus Christ, why can’t you understand,” I shout, turning around to look at him directly, one of the tears that have been burning my eyes rolling down my cheek. I probably look incredibly ridiculous like that, naked and still soaking wet, screaming at him with tears in my eyes and my fists clenched. “I just want to fucking help you! You physically cannot go hunt right now, you’ll bloody pass out, and I know that you’ll refuse to bite me because you’d be scared you won’t be able to stop, so to still be able to help, I thought I’d make myself bleed so that you can drink off my injury but I don’t want to cut myself with you watching because I don’t want to trigger you or something but of course instead of shutting up and letting me offer you my fucking blood you have to be a prick about it.”

I see his irritated expression disappear, washed away by something that looks like guilt. “Take the razor and come here,” he sighs. “Don’t go making a mess of my bathroom by doing that so far from me.”

**…**

**Baz**

He unclenches his fists.

He doesn’t wait another second to do as I told him, picking my razor up and coming back here, getting in the bathtub again, kneeling between my legs. 

“Give me that,” I say, opening my palm and looking at the razor.

It’s very obvious he doesn’t want to be giving it to me, but he still does. He probably doesn’t want to cross me, to be sure I won’t try to refuse his plan again.

And what a stupid fucking plan. The only remotely positive thing about this is that he doesn’t want me to bite him.

Well, that’s what the rational, _human_ part of my brain is telling me. The vampire part is having a blast at the thought of tasting his blood again, so much more than the few drops I got from when he cut his finger.

I undo the mechanism that keeps the blades on the razor, mechanical movements, almost muscle memory at this point, looking at _Simon,_ not at what I’m doing until the blades are in my hand, cold, light rectangles of steel. 

Two years ago I’d have closed my hand around them, obsessively watching blood spill and run down my hand. Two years ago, I’d have taken one of them in my other hand and drawn a deep horizontal line at my wrist, not even flinching at the pain. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have felt Simon Snow’s rough fingers carefully taking them from me. 

Simon.

I blink a couple of times and focus my attention back on him.

Simon.

Not the blood, not the blades.

Simon.

Simon and his worried face, Simon and his gentle hand on mine.

Simon who asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I tell him, looking into his blue eyes. “Make a cut about the size of the longest side of the blade, horizontally, near your wrist. It’ll make the blood flow enough for me to drink. You’ll have to really press on the blade or else it’ll just be a scratch. It seems easy because when you cut yourself accidentally you don’t feel like you’re applying that much pressure, but actually, you are, and when you’re doing it on purpose you’ll tend to make your hand too light. It’s kind of like when you bite your tongue, you know? If you try doing it on purpose, you never bite as much as when you do it accidentally.”

**…**

**Simon**

I hate that he knows all of this. I hate that he’s talking about it in such a detached way, like each of his words isn’t reminding me of the fact that he told me he used to self-harm. But I can’t blame him, I suppose. It was _my_ idea. It’s a pretty bad idea but it’s the best option we have now. 

“Okay. Can you close your eyes while I do it?”

“Snow, if anything were to trigger me, it’d be seeing the wound and the blood more than seeing the moment you cut.”

“Just close your damn eyes Basil, if not for you, for me.”

He stops arguing and does as I say. Hallelujah.

When I see that his eyes are closed, I put the blades I don’t need on the edge of the bathtub, only keeping one in my right hand, my left arm facing him.

I’ve known much more serious injuries than a little cut, it’s not going to kill me, but my hand is still a bit unsteady as the blade gets closer to my skin. I take a few deep breaths, until my hand is still, and I move my arms up so that when it’ll start bleeding, I could quickly put my wrist against Baz’s lips so that not too much of the blood is lost. 

And then I go for the cut, exactly like he said. The effect is immediate, I see red spilling from the thin line I’ve traced.

I can tell Baz is sniffing, his nostrils moving ever so slightly. I don’t make him wait, raising my bloody arm to his lips.

He grabs it, and then his mouth closes around the injury, his tongue licking at it immediately, trying to take as much blood as he can. I can feel his fangs, but they’re not trying to pierce my skin.

I let him drink, and drink, and drink, watching as his face progressively looks less ashy and his hand doesn’t tremble so much around my wrist. 

It feels so good, so incredibly good. There must really be something in vampire saliva that makes it feel so good. Thinking about it, it’s probably so that the person whose blood is being drunk doesn’t want to escape, so that the vampire can drain them without them putting up a fight. It makes me shiver. I know Baz would never do that, though, that he’s going to stop when he’s taken enough. 

I wonder if it’d have felt better if he bit me. I feel good, warmth coursing through me, but not half as good as the people Emmeline Hale bit looked after she sunk her fangs in their neck.

Baz pulls back right when I was about to ask him to do so, reaching for his wand that I put on the edge of the tub with the blades. He casts a healing spell on my wound, and in seconds it’s gone, without any trace that it was ever there.

When I look up at him, I see that he hasn’t wiped his face yet, a thin line of blood going from the left corner of his lips to his chin. It’s so fucking hot I feel a little lightheaded.

Before he can wipe it himself, I raise my hand to his face, a tender smile on my lips. “Messy eater,” I tease him as I wipe the blood with my thumb, then bringing it to his mouth.

There’s almost no grey left in his eyes when he sucks my thumb, licking the last drops of my blood he can get. 

For now.

The moment my thumb slips out of his lips, I press mine on them, my tongue licking his bottom lips, asking him to open his mouth.

He does, as eager to snog me as I am to snog him. I think that it got us both riled up, him drinking my blood. I still feel all warm, and he looks even more high than he did in the kitchen.

When our tongues meet, his has a metallic taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon get very very very turned on by Baz doing vampire things to him but I will not elaborate on this here because I’ve already wrote too much smut, so it’s up to you to decide whether or not Simon’s blood gave Baz enough strength to go another round ;)


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys talk about their evening  
> malcolm and baz have an uncomfortable conversation  
> penny calls

**Baz**

“Love?”

Merlin, I’ll never tire of hearing him call me that.

“Yes?”

He shifts to prop himself up on his elbows, no longer resting his head on me. It’s a pity, really, I love feeling his hair on my bare skin, but in that position I can drown in his blue eyes and it’s not so bad in the end.

“I wanted to apologize, for earlier. You know about the blood. Well, I’m not apologizing for making you drink my blood, you needed it, and honestly with how good it made me feel I’m not about to be sorry about that, but I just… I should have brought it up more carefully. I know your feeding is a sensitive topic for you, but you seemed so… weak when you tried to leave, it made me freak out. You were not strong enough to hunt, that much was obvious, and I’m sure even you knew it, but I should have been more gentle when I told you to drink my blood. So yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

Honestly, I was expecting him to apologize. Even when he had good intentions, if he does something that he knows upsets me a lot, he apologizes.

“It’s okay. You were right, I couldn’t have hunted, and I had already crossed the line of drinking human blood earlier, so I can understand why you’d assume I’d be okay with drinking your blood to feed but, the truth is… I wasn’t, and that’s why I got angry at you.”

He gives me a curious look, moving his face closer to mine. “Why weren’t you okay with that? Feeding off me, I mean. You weren’t going to bite me, just drink the blood from a wound, you couldn’t have drained me with that, I could have snatched my arm away from you if you took too much.”

“It’s not the possibility of draining you that upset me. It’s the fact of using you to feed in itself. You’re my boyfriend, Snow, not… food. It… Yeah, I don’t see another word, it just felt like using you, like you were just some bag of blood I drank from, and I really hated to think that. But then when I actually drank it, it didn’t feel that way. I… I was watching you and you were very obviously enjoying this, and it felt more like something that we shared. Something kind of gross, but still something that we did together, not something I did _to you_. I mean, we spent half of the evening having sex, and this, the blood drinking, it felt like a continuation of that, and not like... having a meal. It was something… intimate and… and it didn’t make me feel like an animal. That was actually the first time since it all started that I fed without feeling completely disgusted with myself.”

A smile grows on his lips at that.

“Really? That’s so great, Baz!”

“Yes… I know that drinking human blood should make me feel bad but I just… I couldn’t feel bad about it when I did it, and thinking back on how it felt and how you looked, I can’t bring myself to be disgusted about it.”

“No, no, no, it’s good that it makes you feel that way, don’t try to convince yourself it’s bad, you moron. I wanted it. If you’d just assaulted someone to drink their blood then yes it’d have been bad, but I wanted you to do it. And if I’m being honest,” he adds, a blush spreading on his cheeks. “I just really wanted you to drink my blood. I… I want you to bite me, too, but I know that it’s not something you’re ready to do now, but I… yeah… it’s just… I think it’s… kind of hot. The whole vampire thing.”

His entire face is red by the time he’s done speaking, and he’s looking at the bedsheets like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Merlin, this beautiful nightmare. I can’t believe him. How could he… How could _anyone_ want that?

But then again, he looked like he was really enjoying himself when I drank his blood, and he did say that it was good so… 

I slip my hand under his armpits and make him get on top of me. It’s not the sexiest way to pull a lover closer, but I still end up with Simon Snow’s bare chest pressed against mine and his legs tangled with mine, so I really don’t mind the lack of sexiness. He doesn’t seem to mind either, he’s already sucking a bruise on my neck.

Crowley, _he_ is an animal.

“Snow, stop this you nightmare and look at me,” I say, tugging on his curls. 

He licks my neck one last time, and then he’s raising his head to bore his eyes into mine. “Yes? Please be quick I want to go back to kissing you.”

I roll my eyes. “Didn’t we shag enough today?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fuck you I said I wanted to kiss you. I didn’t get enough of that,” he whines, pouting.

Sometimes I wonder what horrible sins I’ve committed in a previous life to deserve having fallen in love with him.

“Whatever. You want me to bite you? Seriously Snow?”

“Stop calling me Snow,” he groans, kicking my leg. “And yes, I’d like that. Someday. When you’re comfortable. It’s just… I’m sure it’d feel fantastic both for me and for you, so, you know, why not?”

**…**

**Simon**

He shakes his head with a fed up look on his eyes, like he can’t believe what I’m saying.

“You’re an imbecile. I could _kill you_ if I bit you. Or turn you. I don’t know which is worse. Either way, it’d be too dangerous.”

Dangerous. As if I cared about _dangerous._

“I’ve seen a vampire bite a human without turning or killing them with my own two eyes. That’s _possible_. I’m sure you could, you just don’t know because you’re too scared to try.”

“And what do you suggest? That I experiment on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with venom.

“Of course not. But you could try on an animal? I’m pretty sure that if you’ve not been starving yourself before you feed you can stop yourself drinking, even when you’re using your fangs.”

“But what if I turn that animal? I’m sure my parents would _love_ having a vampire animal in the forest near the house.”

“I don’t think your fangs are enough to turn someone, or something. I think you need… venom or whatever it is that makes you a vampire. Listen, all I’m saying is maybe you could feed without consequences on the person you feed off except for a minor loss of blood. That’s all. Now we stop talking about it before we start arguing.”

He rolls his eyes at that, but he doesn’t say anything else, so I suppose he’s in favour of not arguing. Or he’s thinking about what I said. About the possibility that he might be able to drink without any _draining_ or _turning_ involved.

Fuck, that would be so great if he really could. He’d be so much more comfortable with his vampirism if he didn’t have to kill when he sustains himself.

And he could bite me…

The thought of Baz’s fangs in my skin makes me shiver. Even more when I imagine his fangs in me _during sex_ . That would be so fucking hot. I didn’t think Baz being a literal _vampire_ would be such a turn on, honestly. 

“What impure thoughts are you having,” he asks playfully, giving me a smirk as his hands come to rest lazily on my waist.

“You biting me while I fuck you.”

“Crowley, you madman. I’d literally be sucking the life out of you. You shouldn’t want something like that, especially not in a sexual context,” he sighs, his fingers starting to tap my skin lightly.

I like when he does that. He does it in a way that makes me feel like he’s playing music on me. 

“Big talk for a man who got off on being hit and choked,” I shoot back with a smug smile.

He closes his eyes for a second, his lips quirking up, as if he was remembering what we did earlier. He probably _is_ recalling that. When he opens his eyes again, he says “You say that as if you didn’t get off on hitting and choking me.”

**…**

**Baz**

He loses his smile.

Shit. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, lowering his gaze.

Sorry? What is he sorry for?

He moves his hips to push my hands away from him and then he’s rolling back on his side of the bed, hiding his face in a pillow. 

What the actual fuck. I turn on my side, softly touching his shoulder. “Simon, what’s wrong? What in the name of magic are you apologizing for.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have liked hitting you the way I did, it was wrong.”

Merlin. We should have talked about this before we did it. I had no idea it’d bother him like that, but it’s true that since we’ve started dating, he’s been very adamant about _not_ hurting me, ever, especially not during sex. 

“Aleister Crowley, no. I didn’t mean that it was wrong, I was just teasing you because you were teasing me, love,” I say, pushing on his shoulder to force him to lie on his side like I’m doing, so that we can look at each other. “Besides, if one of us is disturbed for liking what we did, it’s me, not you.”

“No it’s not! It’s… It’s so messed up that I liked hurting you. I don’t _want_ to hurt you but when we were… I liked it when we did it, I liked hitting you, and I liked seeing you cry and I liked thinking of you with bruises on your skin and it’s so fucked up and I shouldn’t have and it’s not something that should turn me on and…”

“Stop. Simon, stop. Don’t get upset, you did nothing wrong, it’s not wrong.”

“Yes it is! I spent years hurting you when I hated you…”

Oh. So that’s why. 

I understand his thought process, sort of, but damn, he’s an idiot. But I’m one too, for not checking up on him. He’s always making sure I’m fine and enjoying myself when we fuck. I never ask him if _he_ is fine and enjoying himself. I’m a terrible boyfriend.

“Hey, love, no, this has nothing to do with anything,” I say, sitting up and dragging him with me. I cup his face with my hands. “I think I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not right. Those are two very, very, very different situations. It’s all about consent, and the context in which it happens. If we had a fight, for whatever reason, and you slapped me, do you think any of us would like it? No. But when you hit me, because I _wanted_ you to, you liked it, and it’s okay that you did. It’s one thing we can do in bed, it’s just like if you were blowing me. It gives me pleasure and it gives you pleasure to do it to me. The pain that is involved in it, it’s here for good reasons. It’s something that arouses me. You did not inflict me pain with malicious intentions, you did it because you saw that it was something I enjoyed. It’s the same thing with the bruising and crying. If I got in trouble and you saw me covered in bruises, would you like it? No. If I was so sad I started crying, would you like it? No. But those are things that are okay to want in another context, and us having sex happens to be one of those contexts where it’s right. You’re not a bad person for liking this. And it doesn’t change anything that you used to want those things in other contexts where it wasn’t right to want them. Yes, there was a time when you used to want to hit me just to hurt me, but that’s not the case anymore and that’s what matters. You don’t have to feel guilty, _at all_. Okay, love?”

He nods almost imperceptibly. To relieve the tension a little bit, because I know it’s the best way to make this hesitant look on his face disappear, I lean in, my hands slipping down to his neck, and I whisper in his ear, my voice low and, I hope, seductive, “Besides, if you didn’t like it, who would give me the spanking I deserve when I’m being a brat, huh?”

I can practically smell his blood rushing to his cheeks. “Oh my god Basil, stop being such a slut will you,” he laughs, pushing me until my back is flat against the mattress and he can lie on top of me, a pleased sigh escaping his lips when his head falls on my chest, much like it was before we started talking.

**…**

**Simon**

Merlin save me, I don’t want to go to breakfast.

Moaning when Baz was the phone and fucking him without a sliencing spell was fun when I did it, but now that I have to be in the same room as his parents who know for a fact -could _hear-_ that I had sex with their son yesterday, I have some regrets.

In other words, I want to die.

I don’t let Baz see that, though, the bastard would be too glad if he knew I’m feeling some of the embarrassment he felt after the phone call. Instead, I put my arm around his waist to say in his ear when we’re close enough to the dining room to see the table through the open door, “I hope you’ll remember all the sinful things I did to you on that table every time you sit here with your family.” And then I’m letting go of him, walking in the room before he can, trying to act as normal as I can.

I sit on my usual chair, next to Ophelia, and say hello to everyone before reaching for the coffee. Bless those people, they make _coffee_ in the morning. You can only get tea or hot chocolate at Watford, which is incredibly stupid. It’s so that the kids can’t drink coffee, I know, but fuck, it sucks for those in their last years. 

I pour myself a cup, and one for Baz as he sits down in front of me.

His mum waits for me to have taken some toast -Baz doesn’t eat in the morning- to start talking to us. “We didn’t see you last night, boys. Did everything go well? Could you enjoy your time together?”

**…**

**Baz**

She knows.

I’m sure that she knows.

She wouldn’t have that barely noticeable smile tugging at her lips if she didn’t know we shagged. Fuck, I thought I had hung up quickly enough to limit the damage.

I want to die.

“We had a good day,” I answer with that polite voice I always try to use with my parents. Snow makes fun of me for it. “But what about you? Was Mordy excited to stay with Roxanne?”

And just like that, Daphne and I start chatting about everything but _Simon’s and my_ day while the others have breakfast. 

**…**

Snow and I are about to leave when my father says “Basilton, could I have a quick word with you please?”

_No you couldn’t._

There are not many things my father could want to ‘have a word with me’ about, and whatever it is, I know that I don’t want to hear it. 

I shoot Simon a panicked look. The fucker just smiles. I fucking hate him. 

I clear my throat before looking back at my father. “Yes, sure,” I answer reluctantly.

“I’ll be waiting for you in your room, then,” my traitor of a boyfriend says, standing from his chair and leaving the room as fast as he can without literally running.

Lucky bastard.

I don’t have his luck, so instead of fleeing, I have to follow my father to his office - _of course_ , he has to take me to his bloody fucking office. He sits on his armchair and invites me to sit too. I do, trying -and failing- not to think about last night. My chest pressed against the dark wood. The leather of Snow’s belt burning my wrist when I tugged on it. His pants and moans. The feeling of his cock hitting my prostate again, and again, and again, making me see stars. His come, hot inside me, dripping on my bollocks.

Basil, focus.

I absolutely cannot afford to get a hard on here and now.

I look at my father. It’s easier to stop thinking about filthy things when my eyes are on my father and not on the desk where Simon...

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“So, Basil. I won’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be, but…” He looks visibly uncomfortable. That’s never a good sign. Father doesn’t show his embarrassment easily. “I know that Mr Snow and you are young, and that you’re… close, but I hope that the two of you keep in mind that… well, that _safety_ is important, even for… homosexual intercourse.”

I wish for the sweet release of death. 

If there’s one thing I don’t want to be talking about with my father ever, it’s the sex I have with my boyfriend.

I clear my throat. “We… Don’t worry, we’re careful.”

“Good,” he says with a pained expression on his face.

I don’t want to be talking about this. He doesn’t want to be talking about this. Why are we talking about this?

“One last thing before you go,” Father continues. “Please, Baz, for the love of magic, remember, **Silence is golden** ,” he says without magic.

Kill me now.

**…**

**Simon**

“I’d have rather licked the bottom of a troll’s feet than have this conversation,” Baz announces with his usual drama as he lets himself fall face first on the bed.

“Was it that bad?” I ask, a smile in my voice as I reach for his hair.

Mordelia has forced me to braid her hair a couple of times, instead of asking her mum or dad, and she always complains because I don’t do it well, so I’ve been practicing on Baz. He doesn’t mind, he likes having his hair played with.

“It was torture, Snow. Bloody torture. I can’t believe you left me alone to do this, you fucking traitor. I thought I could _trust you_.” 

He says it like I’ve killed a member of his family.

“What did your dad want?”

I don’t even try to hide how amused I am by all of this, which gets me a punch in the thigh.

“To make sure we practice safe sex,” he whines, burying his face deeper in the mattress.

I can’t help it, I burst out laughing.

**…**

Baz looks just as mortified as when he came back to the room after his talk with his dad when we walk in the dining room for lunch. I see that he purposely avoids his parents’ gazes.

But at least, he’s having lunch with them. With us. He has ever since that first day when I made him, and I couldn’t be more proud of him.

He’s halfway done with his plate when his phone rings. His father casts him a disapproving glance when Baz gets it out of his pocket, but he doesn’t comment. 

I see Baz’s eyebrows furrow before he picks it up. Okay, that’s weird. Baz is very mindful of rules and politeness, and even I know that it’s rude taking a call when you’re having a meal with people.

He stands from his chair, his right arm crossing over his chest and holding his left biceps as he says “Hello?”

**…**

**Baz**

“Basil, thank Merlin,” Bunce’s voice says, sounding relieved. “I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”

“What do you want? I don’t have forever, we’re having lunch.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice it was lunch time. Is Simon near you? And your parents?”

I can understand that she’d ask about Simon, but my _parents?_

“What part of ‘we’re having lunch’ do you not get? Yes, they’re with me. Why?”

“Can you put me on speaker? It’s important.”

I sigh. Crowley, what does this girl want.

“Wait a minute.”

I lower the phone, and turn back to the table. They’re all looking at me, except for the twins who couldn’t care less about what’s happening around them when they’re eating.

“Penelope Bunce has something to say, apparently. To us all, she wants to be on speaker.”

“Penelope Bunce?” Father repeats, skeptical, at the same time as Snow says “Penny?”

“Can I put her on speaker?” 

I look at Daphne when I say that. She’s the functional human being here. 

“Yes, sure.”

So I do. I press a button, and then “They can hear you, Bunce.”

“Okay, thanks, great,” she whispers, saying it only to me. And then, louder, to everyone. “Hello. Sorry to bother you during your meal. Simon, you know the Mage’s journals that you let me borrow. I’ve been looking through them in the last couple of days, and I found a few things that were interesting to me, but there’s one that _you_ really need to know. It’s about the Humdrum, but I can’t tell you over the phone, it’s too complicated and messy and it’s just not something that should be done on the phone. Which is why I’m wondering if I could come here this afternoon if Baz’s parents allow it, or if the two of you could drive to London, whichever suits you, but it has to be as soon as possible, really. What I read… it’s crucial that you know it. I can’t believe the Mage observed this without ever telling you about it. It’s... It could very well be the key to defeating the Humdrum, for good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after all those chapters of purely indulgent snowbaz content, there’s *finally* going to be some plot in that story 
> 
> that one scene at the beginning, a summary:  
> baz : you can pull my hair, tie me up, spank me, slap me, choke me, degrade me, *long list of kink continues*  
> simon : okay fine ☺️ let’s do that babe ☺️  
> simon : it’d be nice if you could bite me 👉🏻👈🏻  
> baz : sorry friend i’m gonna have to kinkshame you there ✋🏻 🛑 😩  
> the AUDACITY of this boy


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny comes to Hampshire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated writing this chapter because I always found the way the Humdrum “works” so confusing but I obviously had to talk about it so yeah, it’s probably terrible, I’m sorry, but at least it’s done :(

**Penny**

I barely take the time to admire how grand the Pitches’ library is before I put down the Mage’s notebook and my own book on the table that Basil indicated. Both him and Simon are already sitting around it, Baz with a frown on his face, and Simon with a smile that hasn’t left his lips when he saw me at the door. It would warm my heart if I didn’t feel so terrible about why I came here. About what I have to tell him.

“Before we start anything, do you think you could get at least one of your parents to come here?” I ask, looking at Baz. It’s a bit strange talking to him like that. Considering him an ally. It’s not unpleasant, though. I may disagree with him on a lot of things, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t someone I admired intellectually. He’s smart, quick-witted, the kind of person I know I’d love to have long debates with. And he’s brilliant at magic. Better than me, even though it hurts to admit it. “I think having the input of as many people as we can could be useful. I asked my parents already, and they both said something similar so I’d like to see if your parents have another vision of things.” 

He gives me a puzzled look, but stands up nonetheless. “I’m going to ask.”

“Thank you.”

I wait until he walks out of the room to sit down, giving Simon a weak smile I can. Even in those circumstances, I’m happy to see him. He has a way of making my mood better just by being here, with his cheerful blue eyes and this smile that grows so easily on his face. 

“How has it been, being here with Baz?” I ask him.

I have given up on keeping him from talking about Baz. Besides, now when he does, it’s with joy in his voice, so I don’t mind so much. It’s good to see him happy. He was never like that with Agatha. I don’t know if it was because he’s gay -he’s still not sure whether or not he’s gay, I think-, or just because he didn’t love her, but his eyes didn’t shine like that when he heard her name.

“It’s been amazing! _He_ has been amazing. Except when he took me shopping. That was annoying.”

“He took you shopping?” I say, laughter in my voice.

He gives me a pained look. “He did. It was awful, Penny. Awful. But well, I have clothes that fit me now so that’s good. I’m grateful.”

His talking about it brings my attention to his clothes. He’s wearing a light green t-shirt -only Simon Snow would still be wearing short sleeves at this time of year- with patterns of a darker green on it. It changes from the white t-shirt and tracksuits he wore when he came back to school. And it’s his size, which is also a great change. His clothes aren’t hanging on him anymore, making him look even thinner than he is. Instead, the shirt is cut in a way that highlights his broad shoulders instead of hiding them. It’s simple, just a piece of clothing, but it makes him look less vulnerable than the clothes he gets from the care homes. I’m sure Basil paid great attention to that, the way the clothes they bought look on Simon.

I know that _Simon_ pays great attention to the way Basil’s clothes look on him. I saw him staring at Baz’s bum on our way to the library. It made me roll my eyes.

“Apart from shopping, what did the two of you do?”

The smile on his face turns lustful. Crowley, I shouldn’t have asked. I couldn’t care less about Simon dating Baz, but I don’t want to be thinking about him _shagging_ Baz.

“I don’t want to hear it!” I say before he can open his mouth. “Keep your sex stories to yourself.”

It makes him laugh. “You sure?”

“100%. What happens in Basil’s room stays in Basil’s room.”

“Not just his room,” he says, clearly amused by the whole thing. 

“Aleister Crowley, Simon, shut up.”

He giggles again. “I’m so happy, Pen. He makes me happy.”

It should lift my spirits to hear him say that, but the effect is the complete opposite. I don’t want to ruin his happiness. I hate being the bringer of bad news, when he was obviously enjoying his stay here, but it’s not the kind of information I could have waited weeks to tell him.

“I can see that,” I tell him, trying not to let any of my discomfort show. “I’m glad.”

The door of the library opens again, putting an end to our little chat. Simon looks over my shoulder, and his eyes go soft. Merlin, he’s really in love, isn’t he?

It sounds like there are three different people walking, so I suppose that Baz got both of his parents to come. 

This is confirmed when they reach the table where we’re sitting. 

I’ve seen Malcolm Grimm a few times, since he’s on the Coven with my mother and it’s not rare that I came with mum to Coven meetings, especially in the past year, but it’s the first time I meet his wife. I don’t even know her name. 

I stand up to say hello to Baz’s parents. Let’s not appear rude to those people only five seconds after they walked in the room. “Hello. Penelope Bunce, I’m Simon’s friend.”

It’s a pointless introduction, they know who I am, but it’s better than not saying anything.

Surprisingly, Mr Grimm offers me his hand. I don’t hesitate, I shake it as he says. “Malcolm Grimm. Welcome, Miss Bunce.”

When he lets go of my hand, his wife gives me a small smile. “Hello. I’m Daphne.”

It’s only when his parents go -to get one of the other small tables to put next to this one, I suppose- that my attention goes back to Baz and that I notice that… he’s holding a baby.

It’s a strange sight, really, Baz Pitch with such a tiny child in his arms. I never thought Baz was evil the way Simon used to, but he still always appeared so cold. He doesn’t seem cold now. He is holding the baby with obvious care, getting glimpses of her -I suppose it’s a her, the baby’s wearing a dress- with tenderness in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” I tell him as Simon’s arm comes and rests at the top of the back of Baz’s chair, like he was wrapping it around Baz’s shoulders without actually holding him. He does squeeze his shoulder once before letting go.

“You two sound so surprised that I never shared details of my private life with you,” he answers in a bored voice, tilting his head to point at Simon and I. “It’s not like you’re my friends. And I don’t have _a_ sister, I have four.”

“They’re adorable, Penny. Little children. So cute,” Simon says excitedly, his eyes on the baby.

“You’re ridiculous,” Basil says, rolling his eyes.

Simon uses his hand that’s not behind Baz to slap his shoulder. “Stop being mean and give me that baby.”

Baz cocks one eyebrow. “Why would I?”

“Because I ask you to. And she likes me more than she likes you anyway. Look at her squirming, trying to escape. I’m sure she wouldn’t do that if she was with me,” he says, softly stroking the top of the baby’s head with his knuckles.

Baz sighs heavily as his parents come back, effectively carrying a table to put next to ours, but still turns around on his chair to let Simon take the baby from him. 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Simon act with such gentleness as he is now with the baby, making sure her head is well rested on his bent elbow. He shows her one of his fingers, and she wraps her around his. 

Basil is looking at the both of them with more love in his eyes I thought him capable of. It makes me happy to see it. I knew that Baz cared about Simon, he told me so, and I’ve seen them together before, but it’s still comforting to see. I’d hate for Simon to love Baz as deeply and strongly as he feels everything only to have his heart broken because Baz didn’t really love him. 

And then, in a blink of an eye, Baz’s attention is on me, his face serious as he runs his hands through his hair to tie it up with a hair tie he has around his wrist. “So, what have you found Bunce?”

**…**

**Simon**

Jesus Christ, he looks so hot with his hair up like that.

**…**

**Penny**

Merlin save me, I really don’t want to be doing this. Damn my curiosity and desire to know what the Mage wrote in his journals. 

I take a deep breath, feeling four pairs of eyes on me, which really isn’t helping. “It’s really delicate, and I’d rather warn you, Si, it’s going to be difficult for you. It’s… What the Mage found out, after reading it over and over and over again in disbelief, I have to admit that it makes sense. My parents have read it too, and they agree that it seems logical.”

“Spit it out, Bunce,” Baz says sharply.

I’m not sure but I think Simon kicks him under the table. “Leave her alone, you prick.”

“You have to put a word in the jar.”

“Octavia doesn’t count for the jar.”

“Boys, please,” Baz’s stepmother intervenes. “Let Miss Bunce talk.”

It makes them stop bantering immediately. They look like two little kids who just got scolded. 

“Thank you,” I tell her, before looking at Malcolm Grimm. “Mr Grimm, I’m sorry if it sounds rude, but do I have your promise that it’s Basil’s father I’m talking to and not a Coven member? Because word of this must not reach the Coven. I already made my mother promise she wouldn’t take this to them when I told her. We don’t _need_ them. They will only make us lose time and make the situation much more difficult than it already is.”

“All the Coven ever does is make things difficult,” Baz says under his breath, earning himself an irritated glance from his father before the man turns at me. 

“I won’t repeat any of this to the Coven. Please carry on.”

I nod. “Thank you. So,” I say, my eyes flicking to Simon and Baz “I brought the notebook that contains interesting information, and I’ve copied this information myself in case the Mage’s handwriting is too complicated for you to read. His notes are a real mess. That’s all so that you can check by yourself if you want to be sure or don’t believe what I’m going to say.”

“I believe you,” Simon says right back. “Whatever you say, I know you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I know, Simon. It’s not you I was talking about,” I answer, glancing at Baz. “Anyway.” I open the Mage’s notebook and reach for one of my notes, that I’ve tucked between the pages. I put it flat on the table, in between all of us. “This is a list of all the dead spots the Humdrum have created. Notice the first one.” I point at the date on the top of the list. “Summer 1997. Does that ring any bell?”

No one answers. Merlin, I was expecting at least Basil to catch up. 

“Simon, remind me of your birthdate.”

“I don’t have a birthdate. The people in the first care home assigned the day they got me as my birthdate,” he mumbles.

I should have worded my sentence better. I don’t like reminding him of his childhood or of the fact that he was abandoned.

“But when was it?” I insist.

“Summer 1997,” Baz chimes in, turning to Simon. “You told me I’d never seen you celebrate your birthday because it’s during the summer, and we were all born in 1997. Even if your birthdate was chosen by the social workers and isn’t your actual birthdate, we know from those awful things the Mage wrote that he… you know… left you there soon after you were born. So you must have been born during the summer of 97. Your birth…”

“It coincides with the first dead spot,” Simon finishes for him, his eyebrows furrowed. He absentmindedly starts stroking the baby’s hand with his thumb. “But how is that relevant?”

“I’m getting there.” I don’t want to be getting there. “Now, look at this, the second time the Humdrum caused a dead spot was a little bit before we went to Watford for our first year, and what significant thing happened in your life a little bit before we went to Watford for our first year?”

“The Mage sav…” he starts. A sad look washes over his face before he corrects himself. “He _came_ for me. And told me all about our world, and magic, and gave me my wand and the sword.”

“Exactly! He gave you your wand. You used magic for the first time.”

“Bunce,” Baz says. He must be starting to understand what’s going on. So are his parents, I think. Mrs Grimm has a shocked look in her eyes and Mr Grimm is staring at the paper like he’s trying to print the words in his brain. “Get to the point.”

Here it is, right? I have to say those terrible, scary words I wish I never had to pronounce.

I look down at my hands, because I can’t be seeing the blue of Simon’s eyes when I open my mouth “There’s a connection between the Humdrum and you. It seems obvious. The Mage came to the conclusion that you had... somehow… without meaning to, of course… that you had… created him. The Humdrum.”

It’s not even the worse of it, and Simon already looks like his world is crumbling. He holds the baby closer to his chest, as if he were trying to get some comfort from the babbling child, and his face is frozen in an expression of horror. 

Baz slips his hand on his thigh under the table. 

**…**

**Simon**

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

I can’t… it’s not…

_No._

**…**

**Penny**

“There’s more evidence, Simon. I… I don’t know if the Mage was aware of that part. If he was, he didn’t mention it, which does seem unlikely, he appears to write everything in those notebooks. Do you remember the time when the Humdrum snatched us both instead of just you? And we could see what he looks like?”

I know that he remembers, of course I do. No one would forget something like that. I only said this to expose the situation to Baz and his parents.

“You know what he looks like?” Baz says, looking back and forth between Simon and I as his stepmother sucks in a breath. 

“Yes, we do,” I answer. I’m not sure Simon could talk like right now. Not to say anything particularly coherent, anyway. He’s staring down at the baby, as if he were trying to ignore his surroundings, to ignore this conversation. 

“Well, do tell. What does he look like?” Baz’s voice sounds more and more frustrated. Either because he’s irritated to be in the dark about this whole situation, or because his worry for Simon is making him lose patience, I suppose.

“Like Simon. He looks exactly like Simon did when he was 11.”

The atmosphere in the room becomes heavier. I don’t know if it’s just an impression, or if it’s Simon’s magic acting up.

Baz seems to assume it’s the second one, because he taps Simon’s shoulder. “Simon, let me hold Octavia please.”

At first, Simon clings to the baby protectively, but quickly enough, he complies, wrapping his arms around his middle as Baz wraps his around his little sister. “You’re not going to go off, are you? Or do that other strange thing?” he asks softly.

“No. It’s manageable. For now,” Simon adds as his eyes bore into mine. “Please Penny, whatever you have to say, stop holding it back.”

There’s an edge to his voice, a sharpness so unusual. Simon is either calm and friendly, or angry. It’s always all or nothing with him. Right now, he’s none of those, but he doesn’t sound emotionless and empty like he looks when he zones out. 

It makes me shiver.

“So. Considering the dates of the apparition of some dead spots, and the fact that the Humdrum looks like you, we can assume that there’s a connection between the two of you, right?” I ask, my gaze going from one person to another to make them all understand that I’m really waiting for an answer and not just saying ‘right?’ rhetorically.

“It does sound like the most logical option,” Mr Grimm says. “Such coincidences are too unlikely, especially with magic. Things don’t just happen, there’s always a reason behind them.”

“For a long time, we thought Simon’s excess of magic had just happened,” Baz says. 

“And we were wrong! You know it, you’ve read the journals where he talks about… having Simon. It was on purpose.” I see that Mr and Mrs Grimm look a bit confused, so I try to explain. “The Mage _needed_ a Chosen One like in the prophecy, that prophecy he obsessed about. His solution was to… make one, with his wife. That’s how Simon was born.”

“I was an experiment,” Simon comments bitterly.

Baz moves his hand to hold Simon’s own hand, instead of his thigh. 

“I’m sorry, Si. But so, what the Mage didn’t know when he tried to have Simon was that creating a mage with so much, _too much_ magic would… disturb the balance of magic. He didn’t write that anywhere, that’s my and my parents’ understanding of the situation. Simon has more magic than he should which caused the Humdrum to… appear. Because when you think about it, what does the Humdrum do? He steals magic. Why could it be?”

“Because he doesn’t have any. But he’s not like a Normal, who doesn’t have magic and shouldn’t have magic. He doesn’t have it but should have it. So he tries to get it, one way or another.”

“If I’m following you,” Mrs Grimm intervenes. “You two think that the Humdrum was created as Simon’s opposite, having not enough magic when Simon has too much, so that the balance could be restored. Metaphorically, if Simon was an endless well of magic, the Humdrum would be a hole.”

“And a hole wants to be filled, which is why he steals magic.” Simon’s voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes in my head like he screamed at the top of his lung. “I’m an anomaly, and so is he. Neither of us should exist. We go against the rules of magic.”

I clear my throat. “It’s a harsh way to put it, but… yes.” 

It feels like the temperature in the room dropped. 

“What I don’t understand, Miss Bunce,” Baz’s dad says. “Is that on the phone, you said you thought you had found the key to defeating the Humdrum. So far, you’re only exposing the problem, not giving its solution.”

“I was just getting there,” I answer, feeling anxiety rising inside of me, tying a knot in my throat. 

I try to look at all the aspects of the problem, to find another solution than… this, but I couldn’t. Neither could the Mage. Or my parents. We all agreed on the fact that it seemed to be the only solution.

“Penny, just fucking say it for Christ’s sake.” Simon snaps. 

Anger. That’s better than his coldness. Less scary. It’s known territory. 

“The Humdrum wants magic. He takes it, and takes it, and takes it, creating the dead spots, but he never seems to get enough. He never seems to be able to stop. I think that the way to stop him would be to… give him the magic he was created to be the balance of.”

“My magic.”

“Your magic,” I confirm, feeling tears burning my eyes. It’s so cruel. So unfair. I try to keep my voice steady as I continue. “If you give your too much to fill his not enough… the balance should be restored, and he should be gone.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right when you were about to forget it’s something it does, Simon’s magic acts up  
> They think of a way to keep Simon from giving the Humdrum all of his magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is much longer than it should have been and that’s entirely because of the last part, but I couldn’t help myself... you’ll get it when you get there, I think. all I have to say is that my unhealthy obsession for Daphne may have shown 
> 
> also this is completely irrelevant, but with this chapter, this series has reached 200k altogether and that makes me happy, even if I stayed up until the ungodly hour of 3 in the morning to finish and post this chapter today

**Baz**

Unsurprisingly, Simon doesn’t take the news well. I could already tell he was fuming because of how warm his hand was on mine, but now he truly snapped.

The tip of his fingers glow as he pushes himself up, with the obvious intent to leave the room, startling everyone but me. I know the signs of Snow’s outbursts. Which is exactly why I can react quickly, standing from my chair and walking behind him until I can grab his wrist, only a foot or so away from the door. His hand is practically already on the doorknob.

His skin is hot, now, not warm. If he doesn’t calm down quickly, he’ll go off. Or… the other thing. I don’t know which one’s worse, but I know that they’re both awful and that I don’t want any of them to happen. He deserves some bloody peace. His body can’t take that, not after he had to learn all of those terrible things Bunce said.

“Simon...”

“Leave me alone,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.

I feel my heart clench in my chest. I hate this so much. He isn’t completely gone so far, if he can still hear and respond to me, but he’s close to. His wrist grows hotter by the second. It’s still better than if he was angry. I don’t know how to stop him from going off. While that, I think I can manage it, if I act fast and well enough. 

“No. You’re not leaving this room in that state. My little sisters are most likely spying somewhere on the other side of the door, I don’t want your magic to hurt them.”

My words are harsh, and a bit unfair, I’m perfectly aware of that. It’s the point. It’s the best way to make him react. 

I feel him tremble under my fingers. “I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know, love,” I say softly, my parents and Bunce watching be damned. Helping him matters more than toning down my affection for the sake of not looking too much like a couple. “Which is why I need you to give me your hands, and let go instead of shielding yourself, okay?”

As I say that, I slip my fingers in between his, my palms pressed against his. They burn.

He nods almost imperceptibly. I give him a small, encouraging smile, and then I bore my eyes into his. The glow that was just on his fingers has spread everywhere, even around his beautiful face. I can hear how fast his heart is beating in his chest, too fast. “Let’s start by breathing, okay? Then if you need you could relieve some of your magic into me.” He doesn’t nod this time but he closes his eyes and I know it means he’s going to try to focus.

I repeat the same words I always do when I make him do breathing exercises, telling him when to breathe in and out, counting, congratulating him when he does well, and even when he doesn’t do well. 

After we’ve done this five times, which is usually enough, his hands are still hot. I think it’s because he didn’t get to completely black out like the other time his magic escaped. He didn’t get those minutes of silence in his brain, when he couldn’t think of what hurts. His magic didn’t get to leave, in order to ease the crushing weight of it on him.

“Not enough,” he says weakly just as I think that. “Can I… my magic… can you take it… it… it wants to go… it hurts…”

I can hear this pain he talks about in his voice. It breaks my heart. 

I squeeze his hands. “Yes. You can let go, love. I’m here, you can let go.”

And so he does. Mere seconds later, I feel electricity in my hands, going up my arms, turning to fire the more magic flows inside me. 

I can’t help it, I throw my head a little as I let this incredible rush of raw power overtake me. I can feel Simon’s magic everywhere, down to my core, like he is setting me ablaze from inside.

I’d gladly let it burn me. I’d gladly let _him_ burn me. 

It’s exhilarating, really, the feeling of invincibility I feel with his magic is in me. 

And to think that it’s only a part, probably not even a big one, of all of the magic Simon Snow contains....

It’s not the first time I think that his magic is too big for his body. It’d be too big for anyone’s body. I feel like it’s devouring me from the inside, in the most delightful of ways, yes, but devouring me still. I don’t know how he handles it. I don’t know how he handles _more_.

“Baz, I’m pulling back.”

Already?

No, I can’t be selfish, not about that. His giving me his magic, it’s not for me. 

When my eyes are able to focus on him again, as I feel his magic slowly leave my body, I see that he looks like he’s back to normal. His hands are steady as they hold onto mine, his eyes aren’t moving uncontrollably or empty and once his magic is gone, back inside him, his hands no longer burn. “Are you feeling better?” I ask, just to be sure, even though it’s obvious that he is.

“Yes. It’s… Thank you. I wouldn’t be able to calm down if you weren’t there. If you didn’t… let me stock my magic in you for a while when it gets too much,” he says with a chuckle.

He’s a splending moron. I love him more than words can express.

“I’m truly honoured to receive your magic inside me, Simon Snow,” I tell him, making the sentence more lustful than it needs to be, because old habits die hard and there’s nothing I love more than causing him to turn into a blushing, stuttering mess.

The words don’t have the effect I imagined, though. Instead he gives me a smirk, that doesn’t even look too bad, and says, very low. “Not the only thing of mine you like having inside you, is it?”

Merlin, I’ve taught him well. I’m so proud. I just wish he kept the steamy comments for moments when it’s acceptable for me to take his clothes off. Now clearly isn’t the time.

Crowley, I hope he talked softly enough that my parents didn’t hear. They heard enough on the phone. 

I still haven’t recovered from his little show during my phone call with Daphne.

The reminder of my parents’ presence without the impending need to take care of Simon makes me lose my boldness, and I let go of his hands, stepping back to put more distance between us. 

I clear my throat. “Let’s go back,” I say, tilting my head in my parents and Bunce’s general direction.

“Yeah. Not sure I want to,” he says with a nervous laugh. 

“I’m sorry.”

What else can I say? He has just been told the solution to get rid of the Humdrum is seemingly to give up his magic. If I was in his shoes, I’d be completely destroyed. My magic… it’s everything to me. I can’t imagine a life without it.

But Simon has to. Imagine a life without it. Maybe actually _live_ a life without it.

It’s so cruel, so heartbreaking.

He gives me a sad smile, and then we head back to the tables, where father, Daphne, and Bunce are still sitting, looking at us. 

Of course, they must have looked at us the whole time. Brilliant. 

When we take our seats, I see that Snow lets his hand fall in the empty space between us, a not so subtle invitation to hold it. I hesitate, I’m still not completely comfortable with demonstrations of affection in front of my parents, but at the same time, I don’t want to push him away. So, my arm falls along my body too, reaching for Simon’s hand, but instead of completely holding it, I simply hook our pinkies. There isn’t nearly as much skin touching as if we were holding hands, but it’s still undeniably a lover’s gesture, though one tender and innocent, with an intimacy to it that seems almost paradoxical when you think of how small the contact is.

There are a few seconds of tense silence, before Daphne opens her mouth. “May I ask what just happened?”

Snow and I exchange a glace, and he nods at me, giving me permission to explain. Crowley knows it’s a mess to explain. It’s a simple situation, really, it’s the implications that are complicated. Simon _shouldn’t_ be able to give me his magic like that, and his magic _shouldn’t_ try to escape his body like it does.

“As I think everyone here knows, Simon’s magic isn’t exactly… normal. It does lots of inexplicable things that would be completely impossible for regular mages. Like when he goes off, or when, like now, his magic tries to get out of his body.” Daphne’s and Father’s eyes are fixed on me. Bunce knows all of this already, it doesn’t faze her anymore, but they don’t. “I can’t explain how it works, neither of us really understand it, all we know is that when Simon is very hurt and overwhelmed, his magic has the instinct, so to speak, to protect him from harm, but it doesn’t understand that the harm comes from within, so it tries to shield Simon from the outside world. I think you saw that Simon was glowing, that’s his magic getting out. And so the other times it happened, to make his magic go back inside, helping him calm down was enough, but today he needed… more than that, and we happen to have found out that he could… let his magic flow inside me to make it more bearable for him for a moment, so that’s what we did.”

Daphne’s eyes go wide, and Father bats his eyelashes quickly in disbelief “Excuse me, do you mean like in cases of magic unions?” he says, his voice less neutral than usual.

I nod.

“Yes. Snow, magic unions are a tradition, part of the marriage ritual,” I explain, looking at Simon before he can ask about it. “The spouses bond their magics together, and then since their magics are connected, they can use each other’s magic item, and share magic, though even for mages who have contracted the bond, sharing magic is particularly difficult, so not every couple can achieve that, only the most powerful of people.”

“So I can do with you something we could normally only do if we went through a ritual? Typical. Of course my magic would do that,” he scoffs. “Well, at least that will be one less step when we get married, huh,” 

‘Will be’ and ‘when we get married’, not ‘would be’ and ‘if we get married’. Crowley, he’s going to kill me. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“Wait a minute you two,” Bunce chimes in. “You can share magic, but can you use each other’s wands too? And does it work with other people? Could Simon give me his magic the way he gives it to Basil, for example.”

She has that fierce gleam in her eyes I’ve already seen in class when she debated other students -mostly me- and she speaks faster than she was before. I think Snow would say that that’s her ‘work’ mode. He say that ‘work-mode Penny’ is a bit hard to follow and that she makes him feel stupid. But then again, he says that half of the things _I_ say make him feel stupid, so it may just be that Snow gets overwhelmed easily. He isn’t dumb, but he isn’t exactly as bright as Bunce and I are.

“The sharing wands thing works,” Simon answers, sounding unsure. He’s probably doubting whether or not that’s a good thing. “I can use Baz’s wand. He hasn’t tried using mine, but I’m pretty sure he could as well. As for the magic sharing... I don’t know if it’d work with you, but I don’t think so. When it happened for the first time with Baz, it’s because he touched me while my magic was doing this thing, trying to escape. You’ve touched me when I was in that state and it never gave you my magic. And it hurts Baz when I do it so I don’t want to try with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t _hurt_ me,” I argue. It’s not exactly true. I have this lasting pain in my hands from the burn Snow’s magic gave me, and I’m sure if I looked down I’d see ugly swelling, but I couldn’t care less. “It’s a bit of an inconvenience but it’s nothing a spell can’t heal, really. Whatever. Let’s get back to the topic at hand. The Humdrum. Can anyone think of a way for Simon to give him his magic without giving him all of it? Because he definitely doesn’t have enough control over his magic to be able to control the amount the Humdrum takes. He can do that with me because I’m not taking, I’m receiving, but the Humdrum… he takes.”

“Well,” says Daphne’s voice, surprising me. I didn’t think Daphne would intervene, unless it was to ask a question. Not that she isn’t smart enough to think of something, of course, but she tends to be set back during conversations when she’s not the one who started them. “It’s not a solution I favour at all, but it seems like you can take Simon’s magic, so maybe if, when Simon gives his magic to the Humdrum, you’re here, taking some magic to yourself, he could give the Humdrum what would appear to be all of his magic, since the rest of it would be… conserved in your body, and then when the Humdrum would be gone, you could give Simon his magic back. This way, he would still have it, even though much less than he does now.”

I can see why Daphne wouldn’t like this option. It’s putting me at risk. Father doesn’t seem to appreciate either, he turned livid when Daphne exposed her idea. 

“I’m fine with that,” I say. 

“Baz, no. Absolutely not,” Simon says immediately, practically snapping his neck when he turns his head. “You don’t know how it is, facing the Humdrum but it’s… it’s awful. Penny can confirm. It’s… he could hurt you so much, Baz. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt trying to save me.” He slides his hand so that he’s holding mine, instead of just my pinky, squeezing it. “You can’t do that, it’s too dangerous.”

The begging look in his blue eyes would almost be enough to convince me. Almost.

“Do you think _I_ could forgive myself if you lost your magic because I selfishly refused to help you?”

I couldn’t.

Magic is too important to me, to Snow, for me to forgive myself if I didn’t try to help and he lost it all. Guilt would eat away at me. 

**…**

**Simon**

He can’t.

He _can’t_ do that.

Penny’s terrified face and non stopping tears after the Humdrum took us both still haunts me, and I had all of my magic and my ability to go off to save us. If I give my magic up… I have nothing to defend myself, let alone someone else, against him. Baz would be in too much danger, I can’t risk that. I can’t risk him getting injured… or worse, just so that I can keep my magic. 

“But why do you care? You… You’re so selfish sometimes, be fucking selfish about that!” I shout, my free hand coming to clasp our joined hands, effectively locking his in between both of mine.

“Why do I care?” he repeats, as his voice grows angrier. His eyes do too, becoming darker, like a raging storm, instead of their usual mesmerizing moon grey. “Why the fuck do you think I care? Because _I love you_ , you fucking moron! I don’t want you to lose something so important because you want to _protect_ me! I can protect myself, I don’t need to play knight in shining armour for me!”

Never have the words I love you sounded more like an insult. They hit me like a slap in the face, all the anger he put in them making them hurt more than if he spit that he hated me in my face.

I love you isn’t something he should tell me when we argue.

I love you isn’t something he should tell me when his voice is trembling with rage.

I love you is something he should only ever whisper breathily in my ear after sex, say with tenderness as he looks at me just as softly.

“I know that you can protect yourself, Baz,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. If I start screaming, we’ll both end up yelling atrocities at one another like we were so good at back before we started dating, and it won’t lead us anywhere.

“Then let me. I’m my own person, Snow, I can make my own choices. That’s a choice I want to be making. I want to provide you with all the help I can.”

**…**

We argue some more, my parents and Bunce even intervening sometimes, but eventually, we decide on something. As Bunce rightly noted, people don’t just disappear with Simon like that. When they were both snatched, it was the first time it happened, and it was because they were close physically when it happened. So we agree that the next time the Humdrum would come cause trouble, if I happened to be taken with Snow, he’d let me help, because it’s better than just letting me stand there as he fights the Humdrum, but that if he’s taken alone, he won’t wait for another time when I might be snatched with him, he’ll give the Humdrum his magic, all of it if that’s what the Humdrum wants. 

I’m still terrified by the idea of Snow losing all of his magic, but I said I agreed to this anyway, because I know him. Now that he has found a way to probably get rid of the Humdrum, he’ll do it as soon as he can, no matter what it costs him.

Bloody fucking hero.

Has anyone ever told this boy he doesn’t have to always sacrifice himself? Has anyone ever told him it’s okay to be selfish sometimes?

I know I’ve tried telling him that. But he never _listened._ He says that he’s the Chosen One, that it’s his duty. 

But at this very moment, pressed against my side, his eyes staring blankly at the night sky through the window as he absentmindedly draws circles on my chest, he doesn’t look like the golden hero of a prophecy. He looks like a boy, just a boy. A terrified boy. 

I kiss his hair, running my hand up and down his back, because it’s all the reassurance I can give him now.

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t sleep.

I tried, I really tried, lying with Baz the way I prefer, listening to the too slow beat of his heart and breathing in the clean smell of his pyjamas, his faint snoring soothing me, but I didn’t manage it. So instead, I took his laptop, and left the room. 

Right now I’m sitting in the corridor, my back against the wall and the laptop on my lap, looking at the first Disney movie I could find with Baz’s earphones. Baz thinks it’s a shame I’ve only seen Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. I tried telling him that they wouldn’t show us anything else in the care homes, and that really, it didn’t matter, it’s just stupid cartoons, and he went on a rant about how those were crucial parts of one’s upbringing and that I had to see them. So we’ve been watching Disney movies. Beauty and the Beast. The Little Mermaid. The Lion King, which Baz was very excited about since it’s apparently his favourite. Right now, I’m watching one called Mulan. This girl goes against the law in order to protect her father from certain death in a war by pretending to be a man, putting herself in danger instead of him. She chooses love, family, over safety. It’s not the best option for her, but it’s the best option to keep her loved ones from harm.

A face appears next to my screen, making me jump in surprise.

Daphne. 

She’s crouching there, right next to me. I was too caught up in Mulan’s training scene to pay attention to my surroundings. 

I pause the movie, and take the earphones off. “Daphne?” I say, looking back and forth between her and the corner of the laptop where the time is. 2:48. Why is she up? 

“What are you doing here?” she asks me, her eyebrows furrowed. “You should be sleeping.”

“So should you.”

“Unfortunately, I have a baby to feed. Didn’t you hear her scream at the top of her lungs, some twenty minutes ago?”

I shake my head. 

“Well, lucky you,” Daphne says with a smile. I feel like she’s always smiling. At the little ones, at Baz, even at Mr Grimm sometimes, though it’s always more discreet. And at me too, now.

They’re nothing like Baz’s smiles, but they’re just as comforting. Daphne’s smiles feel like diving into hot water when you’re cold or tense. It makes warmth course through you, immediately making you feel better. 

“Were you planning on going back to sleep any time soon, or do you think you could come downstairs with me?” she continues, still crouching so that her face is at the same level as mine. 

“Shouldn’t you go back to sleep?”

I don’t want her to lose sleep because of me. I don’t want anyone to lose sleep because of me, that’s why I left Baz’s room in the first place. 

“I won’t be able to before some time. Do you want to come with me or not? I won’t be offended if you don’t, it’s fine.”

“No, no, no. I mean, yes, I want to come, I’m just gonna put Baz’s stuff back in his room and I’m coming.”

“Good,” she says, patting my knee before standing up.

**…**

Daphne hands me a steaming cup the moment I sit next to her on the sofa. She has only turned on the lamp that’s next to it, a dim yellowish light faintly illuminating the room. It allows me to really see her, much better than in the dark corridor. 

The thing that strikes me the most is her hair. It’s all down. It never is, as far as I know. Octavia has a thing for pulling people’s hair, and Daphne is carrying her in her arms more than anyone else in this house, so I suppose that’s why. She does leave it half down, sometimes, but never completely untied like that. Right now, her hair is falling in long, dark waves, some of them in her face. It makes her look younger. 

“Hot chocolate,” she says, pointing her chin at the cup. “I put cinnamon in it. Baz told me you liked it like that.”

I don’t know what surprises me most. That Daphne would make me hot chocolate, that Baz would tell her how I like my hot chocolate, or that she’d remember it. 

“Oh, thank you.”

“Of course. Now, do you want to talk to me about what’s keeping you awake?”

“I mean, you can guess,” I say, shrugging. 

“I can, indeed. But I know it can be tough, talking about sensitive things to those you love. So if there’s something you wouldn’t feel comfortable telling Basil but still would like to get off your chest… I’m here. Even if it’s not about what has been discussed today.”

She looks like she genuinely means it, like she really wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, and there are some things that have been on my mind constantly ever since Penny told me I’d most likely have to give up my magic to beat the Humdrum, so I don’t hold back. I _do_ need someone to listen, and it can’t be Baz. There’s one part he absolutely cannot hear. He’d probably think it’s dumb. Or get angry that I think that.

So I take a sip of the drink Daphne made me -it’s delicious- and then, I say “I’m afraid of losing my magic. That sounds obvious, I know. I’m a mage, of course I’m scared to lose my magic, but I really am. My magic… I was born with it, of course, but I wasn’t born with it the way other mages were, you know? It has always been here, but I didn’t know it up until the Mage told me. So really, it felt like a gift, you know, something so amazing, so extraordinary. Being magic never felt… normal to me the way it does for the rest of you. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, even if it really sucks sometimes, and it’s most likely going to be taken back. That hurts a lot. But it’s not… it’s not what troubles me the most, about that whole situation. No, the thing that actually scares me… it’s to lose Baz and Penny along with my magic. I mean, I’ve been told since my first year that my magic made me appealing to mages, because I have so much of it and it’s so powerful and I’m… I’m scared that they don’t actually love _me_ , but that it’s my magic attracting them. I’m scared that if I don’t have my magic, they’re going to stop loving me.”

Because what is there to love about me, if I’m not the Chosen One?

The Mage couldn’t see anything to love apart from my magic.

Daphne puts her half drunk cup down on the floor, shifting to look at me. 

“Your magic may have attracted them at first, sure. I must admit, I felt a strong pull towards you when I met you. But it’s not only that. You’re not friends with every mage you’ve met, are you? I can understand your fear, but I don’t think it’s justified. I can’t speak for Miss Bunce, but Basil… what he feels for you can’t just be the appeal of your magic making him think he cares for you. There’s nothing artificial about the way his whole face lights up when he talks about you. He’s fond of you, truly.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

She does sound sure when she says it. It eases the pain in my chest a little. 

Just a little. I’m still as fucking terrified.

I take another sip of hot chocolate, feeling Daphne’s tender gaze on me. I’m not sure if it’s that or the hot chocolate making me feel warm inside. Maybe both. 

A crazy idea crosses my mind, and I open my mouth before I can really think about it, like I do much too often, according to Baz “Daphne, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she says with an encouraging smile.

“Can I… I mean can you… uh…”

“Can I what?”

“‘gme.”

She frowns, but she looks clearly more amused than confused. “I didn’t quite get that.”

I look down at my hands. Fuck, I should have shut up. She probably won’t want that, it’s a weird thing to ask.

“What is it, Simon?” she insists, putting her hand on my knee.

“Can you hug me,” I blurt out, my cheeks burning.

“Oh, honey,” she says, and the nickname could make me cry. That’s what she calls Baz, when she allows herself to call him affectionate names, instead of Baz or Basil. She takes my cup from my hand, putting it on the floor next to hers. “Of course I can,” she finishes, as one of her hands slips behind my head.

She pushes on it softly, to pull me closer until one side of my face is resting against the top of her chest, her chin propped against my curls. Her other hand, the one that was on my knee, disappears for a moment, only to be back on the space between my shoulder blades, that she rubs. 

She’s so gentle with me, as if I was to be held with as much care and attention as Octavia.

I don’t feel her chin against the top of my head anymore, and I think that she’s going to retreat, but instead, right as I was going to free myself from her embrace despite my desire to cling to her a little longer, she kisses me where her chin was. 

That’s it, I’m definitely crying. 

Her fingers start twisting my hair, probably when she feels tears falling on her, and I decide to stop thinking and just enjoy the feeling of being held like that, with a tenderness so different from Baz’s, but equally as pleasant.

Is that how being hugged by a mum feels like?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daphne : *sees a sad teenage boy awake in the middle of the night* here, have a hot chocolate and a hug, and you can tell me all of your life problems if you want  
> I JUST LOVE HER, OKAY😂 I’m giving Daphne lots of scenes because I never read enough about her


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re sad, then they’re horny, and then terrible things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s over folks  
> Well, that part is, but there’s a next one coming, I’ll give you the title at the end of this chapter
> 
> I was planning on writing one or more chapters before the final one, but when I started writing this afternoon, I thought “Why?” because really, I had nothing to add, except for the conclusion. So I didn’t push, and just went and wrote the last chapter. 
> 
> WARNING!!  
> There’s a sex scene towards the end of the chapter (because I had to indulge myself with some smut) so if that’s not something you want to be reading, stop reading when you reach “He buries his face in his hands. “I fucking hate you,” he mumbles as I toss him his shirt.” and start again after the next text separation (“...” in bold) The first sentence of the part where you should start reading again is “ I feel cold, but not the good kind of cold.”  
> I put both those sentences in bold so it’s easier for you to spot when to stop and start reading ^^

**Baz**

Today’s the day.

The day Simon faces the Humdrum, with or without me. Hopefully with. 

We have it planned out, thanks to Bunce’s list of times he attacked. Over the past 7 years, he took Simon away and stole magic on Halloween night 4 times. It’s most likely he’s going to do it again today. What really makes me think it’ll happen is that Simon is at my place, and of course, being the ancestral home of the House of Pitch, it’s a place that is overflowing with magic, which is obviously something that appeals to the Humdrum. 

Deep down I’m still hoping he won’t attack, but just in case he does, I’d rather accept it now. It’ll hurt less if I think it will happen and it indeed happens than if I convince myself it won’t happen and it does happen. 

Right now I’m trying to get distracted by playing with my sisters, but well, it’s not really working. 

I close my eyes a second and try focusing back on Mordy. She’s straddling my stomach, as I lie on the sofa, playing some hand clapping game with me. Ophelia is sitting on the floor next to us, drawing and repeating some of the things Mordelia sings. Distantly, I can hear Father’s deep voice reading Cordelia a story and Octavia’s babbling. 

It feels like a normal Saturday morning. The whole family spending time together in the living room, relaxing with no urgent things to do. 

Except it’s not. It’s absolutely not a normal Saturday morning. On normal Saturday mornings, I’m not thinking about my boyfriend’s impending loss of magic. 

My boyfriend.

As if I summoned him by thinking about him in that way, Simon appears in the door frame. He’s wearing the grey tracksuit he slept in, with a green shirt too big for him that he likes wearing around the house. It’s a shirt he stole from me, one that Fiona had given me a while ago. It used to belong to one of the indistinct Normals she brings home for the night ; needless to say I never wore the damn thing.

When our eyes meet, what I see in them makes my heart clench. 

My hands freeze, which greatly annoys Mordelia. She shakes my wrist. “Hey, don’t stop,” she groans.

“Yes, we’re stopping. Get off me,” I say, my eyes still fixed on Simon as I slip my hands under my sister’s armpits to lift her off my stomach, carefully putting her down on the floor. 

Simon is walking towards me, standing straight next to the couch. He reaches out with his arms, his question obvious even before he whispers a weak “Please.”

I open my arms. “Come here.” 

My father be damned. If he doesn’t want to see Simon and I hug, he can look somewhere else.

Simon sighs in relief before bending down, making his way between my legs and arms, nestling himself against me. He tucks his head in the crook of my neck, his nose pressed against my skin. He’s holding onto my shoulders as best as he can, and I can feel his shaky breathing and the too fast beating of his heart. It’s not long before I can feel tears as well, cold and wet and heartbreaking. “I’m so scared,” he says, sorrow in his voice.

My jaw and hands clench. I hate this. I hate this so much. Simon Snow shouldn’t ever be sad. Simon Snow shouldn’t ever be scared.

Hasn’t he been enough? Hasn’t he _done_ enough, sacrificing the happiest years of his life, those he spent at Watford, fighting creatures to do the Mage’s bidding and fighting the Humdrum because he’s the Chosen One and that’s what the world wants him to be.

“I know, love,” I say when I’m able to unclench my teeth, starting to rub his back. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault,” he chuckles.

“I’m still sorry. It’s so unfair. I wish there was another way.”

“But there isn’t, is there?”

The desperation in his voice feels like a stab in the heart.

I kiss his head, my lips, lost in his curls, forming another ‘I’m sorry’, but a silent one this time. 

I close my eyes, just letting myself hold him, but soon, they snap open when I hear Ophelia’s high voice. “Simon?”

His head jerks up as I tell my sister “Leave Simon alone please, sweetheart. Be a good girl and go back to your drawing.”

“It’s fine,” Simon says, one of his hands letting go of me to stoke Ophelia’s round cheek. “What is it, princess?”

He calls all of them ‘princess’. It makes my heart melt. I never thought someone as clumsy and awkward as him could be so good with children. He’s at ease with them, and they’re all completely in love with him.

“Why sad?” she asks, her thin brown eyebrows furrowed as she points at Simon’s tear-stained cheek with her tiny hand. 

He gives her a small smile. “It’s nothing, I had a nightmare,” he answers, making his voice as soft as he can despite its trembling.

Her mouth shapes an “Oh”, which looks rather comical, before she makes herself look serious. She rests her palm on his arm, probably mimicking the gesture she’s seen her mother do so many times, and says “Simon no sad. Nightmare over.”

I wish the nightmare was over.

The truth is that it hasn’t even begun.

**…**

**Simon**

After beginning the day being miserable because of the prospect of fighting the Humdrum today, I decide to try doing what I do best : not thinking about it. It’s harder than it is most of the time, though. The things I usually try not to think about aren’t as crazy and nerve-racking as this, so it takes Baz’s family’s help to keep my mind of this. 

First, it’s Mordelia, probably annoyed by all of my crying and moping, who decides Baz and I should help her carve a pumpkin. Her dad has bought a couple of pumpkins, for the girls to turn into lanterns. It _is_ Halloween after all. So, reluctantly moving away from Baz, I stand up to follow Mordelia to the dining room, hearing Baz’s and the twins’s footsteps behind me. 

It ends up being a disaster, of course. How could it not. Two teenagers, three little children, knives and spoons. It couldn’t go well. 

Cordelia ends up crying because I didn’t cut her pumpkin quite like she wanted and she thinks it’s ugly, while the pumpkin Baz has made for Ophelia is beautiful.

Then, once the girls are gone, it turns into a competition between Baz and I. We each take a pumpkin and we have to make it look like the other. My idea. I just want to give my pumpkin fangs to annoy him. But of course, I should have known the bastard would find something bitchy to do. He carved a bomb. “You’re a time bomb, Snow,” he says with this haughty voice he always used with me before, giving me a smirk. That motherfucker. 

I give him his smirk back before I say smugly, “A vampire pumpkin.” while showing off my creation. 

_My_ vampire hooks his fingers in the waistband of my trackies, pulling me closer with a dangerous look on his face.

Baz has been much more open to touching and kissing me outside of his room lately. I don’t know if it’s because his father is starting to be more and more okay about us dating, or just because he doesn’t care anymore, but I certainly don’t mind. It makes me feel all warm inside, feeling his hand on my thigh or the small of my back when his parents are around, because even though he told me the actual reason why it made him uncomfortable at first, it always made me feel a bit like he was ashamed of being with me. 

But what I love even more, it’s when he kisses me like he just did, just a quick, teasing peck on the lips, an invitation to do more if I want to. And I do, want to do more. I slide one of my arms up behind his neck, bending it down a little to kiss him. It used to irritate me, having to get on my tiptoes or to make him lower his head to be comfortable kissing him, but now I kind of like it. I like the way he keeps me close to him with one arm around my waist. I like when he makes me reach for his lips. I just like kissing him, whenever I can.

**…**

Once we’re done kissing in the dining room, we go back to the living room and Daphne immediately tasks us to make lunch. “If you want to, of course,” she adds. “To keep yourself busy.”

Of course she would have caught up on my need for a distraction. She’s good at reading people.

I give her a thankful look. “That seems like a good idea, what do you think?” I ask Baz.

“Why not,” he shrugs. 

He’s been doing that a lot more recently. I’m pretty sure that’s my influence. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is too good to _shrug_ , it can only be the fault of his barbarian of a boyfriend.

So that’s how we end up in the kitchen. As he opens the cupboards and the fridge to look for food to cook, he says “Try not cutting yourself this time, you clumsy idiot.”

“Fuck off,” I shoot back automatically, before zoning out.

His words have taken me back to the last time we were here together. The sting of the cut. The blood running down my finger, falling on the floor and the sink. His fangs, sharp and shiny. His tongue licking at the wound. The feeling of peace and pleasure that overtook me.

“I can practically hear your dirty thoughts,” Baz’s voice says, interrupting my daydreaming.

He’s selected a few vegetables -tomato, eggplant and zucchini- to cook with the meat that Daphne had already put on the counter, and he’s looking at me, his arms crossed on his chest.

He looks so hot like that, still wearing the trackies and tight white shirt he hangs out in in the morning. The shirt looks particularly good, nicely snug around his biceps and chest. I wonder if I could see the faint shape of his abs if his shirt just _accidentally happened_ to get wet.

He snaps his fingers. “Crowley Snow, quit being horny for five minutes and help me make lunch.”

“Only five minutes?” I tease, stepping closer. 

“Half an hour.”

“Starting now,” I say, catching a glimpse of the clock. 11:17. “In thirty minutes I’m taking your shirt off, and if we’re still in the kitchen by then, then it _will_ end up on the floor of the kitchen.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the pleased smile on his lips. He always makes it look like _I’m_ super horny all the time, but in truth he’s just as much, he’s just better at hiding it, and he knows that I’m going to start flirting with him anyway, so he doesn’t need to.

**…**

His shirt does end up on the floor of the kitchen, and _he_ ends up on the counter, with my body between his thighs and my tongue in his mouth. “My parents,” he groans when I slip my hands under the waistband of his trousers to squeeze his arse through his pants. 

“Be quiet then, they won’t come here if you don’t give them a reason to,” I tell him, licking at the skin of his neck.

His neck is so sensitive. I love it. He loves it too There’s just one spot he doesn’t want me to touch or kiss ; the two tiny bumps of skin on the left side of his neck, where his scars from when he was bitten are. 

“You’re a monster,” he whines when I nip at his neck, something that almost always makes him moan. “You’re mean and cruel and you want me to be humiliated.” 

I move my head from his neck to whisper in his ear, pressing my chest against his even more. I can feel his hard nipples brushing my shirt. 

“You _like_ being humiliated, you slut.”

He tries to muffle it, biting his lip, but I can still hear the groan my words caused him to let out. My hands push past his underwear, finally getting to touch his soft skin. 

“I want you so much,” he whispers under his breath as his own hands run up and down my back under my shirt, scratching lightly. I had scratches on my back the other day after we fucked. It was so sexy I almost fainted when he showed them to me in the mirror. 

I thrust my hips, rubbing his cock against mine. He’s already half hard. Merlin, it’s so fucking hot how easily he gets aroused, how sensitive he is.

“I want you too,” I answer, because what else could I say? But then, because nothing is funnier than making him frustrated -I’m still making him pay for that first week here- I move back, no parts of our bodies in contact anymore. He gives me a truly betrayed look. It’s bloody hilarious. “But it’s time to have lunch, so I guess it’ll have to wait.”

**He buries his face in his hands. “I fucking hate you,” he mumbles as I toss him his shirt.**

**…**

The moment we’re in his room, I’m pressed between the wall and Baz’s body. It’s highly unusual, I’m usually the one doing the pinning to the wall, but fuck I love it. He’s looking at me with a dark look in his eyes. 

I think I’m starting to understand why he likes pissing me off so fucking much before we shag. It’s so bloody hot.

“I can’t believe you left me like that in the kitchen,” he says, his hands resting on my hips. He’s much more gentle with his words and hands as I am with him, when the situation is reversed, and deep down I’m glad he is. If Baz talked to me the way I talk to him sometimes, I’d probably cry. I’m more into soft, tender lovemaking than he is. “That really wasn’t nice of you, Simon. Hadn’t I been good?”

“You’d been so good,” I tell him, the words coming easily. This is much more usual. “But it _was_ time to have lunch. And we’re here, now, aren’t we? So you didn’t wait too much.”

As I say that, I put my hands on the hem of his shirt to take it off again. It looks lovely on him, but it would definitely look lovelier on the floor. 

“I don’t want you to make me wait any longer,” he says, his voice firm, as firms as the hands that work the knot I always tie with the string of my trackies.

It’s an old habit, from the care homes. The trackies I got there were never my size, so I kept them on my hips like that. Now I’m still used to tying the string, even if my trousers actually fit me.

“Maybe I should, though,” I answer, fidgeting the waistband of his own trousers. “What if the Humdrum snatches us while we shag, huh? That’d be awkward.”

I don’t really believe that could happen ; if the Humdrum attacks today, it’ll be at night, or early in the morning. He very rarely attacks in the middle of the day, and all the other times when he attacked on Halloween, it was after the sunset.

But it’s fun watching Baz’s reaction. He shoots me an annoyed glare. “The Humdrum can go fuck himself, you’re not getting out of this even if the world ends, Simon Snow,” he decrees, before he catches my lips, giving me a mindblowing kiss.

“You seem really determined, love,” I mock him as he pushes my trousers and pants down in one go, leaving me only with my shirt, that hangs too low for me to be truly exposed. I think that’s what he wants, though. I think he likes seeing my shirt going down to the middle of my thighs, and knowing that I’ve got nothing underneath it. That he would just have to flip it up and he could see my bare cock. That if he took it off, I’d be completely naked, while he still has his trackies on. I’ve tried taking them off, but he stopped me. Only now that he got rid of mine does he _finally_ let me undress him.

And then he’s the one who’s naked in front of me, as glorious as he always is. His body is truly a work of art, white marble and perfect proportions, he’s like one of those ancient statues of Greek gods. Well, except for the size of his cock. He definitely isn’t _small_.

“Get on the bed,” I order him, taking my eyes off him with difficulty to be able to work on locking the door. That technically still isn’t allowed during the day, but I don’t think Daphne would mind, not today. “And cast a silencing spell, unless you want your family to hear you scream my name.”

I’m not looking at him, but I can tell he has a cocky smile on his face. I hear him cast a ‘ **Silence is golden** ’ and then he’s saying “Do you think you’re going to make me scream, Snow?”

His voice sounds more and more distant, which tells me that he’s walking to the bed, just like I told him. It’s only when I hear the ruffles of the bed sheets that I turn around, only to see him spread out on the bed, all long limbs and incredibly pale skin.

His skin has just been _pale_ lately, like he had a very fair complexion, instead of being grey. I’m sure that it’s because I’ve let him feed off me, it’s good for him to drink human blood instead of animal blood. I don’t know what kind of properties blood can possibly have, all I know is that mine does him more good than the rats’. 

“You’re gorgeous, I tell him as I climb on the bed, crawling on top of him to give him a kiss just as good as the one he gave me when he had me against the wall. 

It feels so amazing, kissing him. We’ve been doing it so much, I’m afraid someday we’ll tire of it, but as far as I’m concerned, I feel like I could kiss him everyday for the rest of my life and still melt as much as I do now. 

When I pull back, a thin line of spit that quickly breaks connecting our lips, he puts his hands on my hips under the shirt, cold and steady, and lets them wander on my upper body as I simply look at him, the perfect traits of his face, except for his crooked nose, those long, ink dark strand of hair contrasting beautifully with the whiteness of the pillow and his skin.

I wish he’d let his hands go further down. Baz rarely ever touches me under the belt, except for the few times when he wanks me to get me riled up, but he prefers using his mouth for that anyway. And he has only touched my arse once or twice, when we were naked. He slips his hand on my back pocket sometimes, or pats my arse when I’m lying on my stomach, but he never touches me in a way that’s overly sexual. Nothing like how _I_ touch him there.

I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to, or because he thinks I don’t want to. Because if it’s because he doesn’t want to, well, it’s fine, I have parts of him that I prefer touching and others that I prefer not touching too, but if it’s because he thinks I don’t want to… well…

“Baz,” I say, hesitating. I know I shouldn’t be unsure about that, Baz is always down for pretty much everything in bed, and it’s something that _he_ enjoys so I don’t see why he’d make fun of me for wanting it, but I’m still a tad uncomfortable. 

“Yes?” he answers, running one of his fingers down my spine, as lightly as a feather.

I shiver. It tickles.

“There’s something I wanted to try.”

He seems interested, a smile growing on his lips. He likes it when we do new stuff in bed. Usually it’s things I do to him, to satisfy those of his kinks that he talks to me about. Like the hitting him or the choking him things. But today, it’s something I want _him_ to do to _me_.

“Well, pray tell. What nasty idea have you had?’ he asks, pushing his head up to kiss my shoulder over the fabric of my shirt. I should have taken the bloody shirt off before joining Baz on the bed. I’m way too overdressed. 

“I… uh… so… I’ve been… you know… trying stuff on my own,” I tell him, feeling my cheeks burn already. It’s so _humiliating_ even if I’m 99% sure that he won’t judge me. 

“What do you mean by trying stuff?”

At least he isn’t put off by the ‘on my own’ part of what I said. I didn’t know if it was okay, that I wanked now that we fuck. He didn’t mind that one week when he was being a tease, but that’s because it was his game, his rules, for his pleasure. Maybe he could have not wanted me to masturbate, or at least, not wanted me to do it if I was doing it when he’s not watching, because he particularly liked it when I made him watch me touch myself, a few nights ago. 

“Well… I just… You seem to like it a lot when I fuck you…”

“You could put it like that, yeah,” he scoffs. “I _like it a lot_ ,” he repeats, clearly making fun of me for my choice of words, the fucking prick. “What’s your point?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to… I mean… you know, I... I don’t really understand how it could feel good for you, having stuff up your arse, so… uh… I’ve tried… fingering myself,” I eventually manage to spit out, so low that he would probably not have heard me without his vampire hearing. “But it didn’t feel good and I… I thought that maybe if… you know… if it were your fingers inside me, it might feel better than when I did it.”

He hums, and there’s no trace of judgment on his face. It’s a relief. “Just so we’re clear before we get to it,” he says with a careful voice. “You want me to finger you. That’s all? Anything else you want? I can eat you out first if you want.”

As tempting as it seems -the fucker says I’m good with my tongue, but the wicked things he does with his, I swear to God, it drives me mad- I shake my head. “Let’s not do all the fun stuff on the same day, shall we?” 

He smile softly. “Okay.” He kisses my shoulder again. “Do you want to be on your back or your stomach? It’ll be easier on your stomach but I know you prefer when we can look at each other.”

“Yeah, on my back please.”

“Fine, then. Take your shirt off, love, and lie with a pillow under the small of your back.”

“Like you do when we make love.”

It makes it all a little less scary, to do things the way we usually do, even if our roles are reversed. 

“Like I do when we make love, yes.”

Wow, he even repeated my ‘make love’ instead of changing it to ‘fuck’. He must sense how nervous I am about this whole thing. 

I position myself as he told me, keeping my legs together -which is completely ridiculous, I’m aware of that, thank you very much- as he reaches for the lube on the drawer of his nightstand. We’ve been using it a lot, so it’s been relocated to the bedside table instead of under the bed, to be accessible more easily while still being hidden when his sisters come here. Baz told me about a spell for lube, ‘ **Slippery when wet** ’, but he said that he preferred using regular lube because he can control the amount and it’s not the same texture.

When he kneels in front of my legs, tapping my knees lightly to ask me to pry them apart, it really hits me that Baz is going to have his fingers in my arse. It’s terrifying and exciting at the same time. 

A bit shyly, I spread my legs in a way I’d want him to spread his if I was the one doing the fingering, and I watch as he coats his middle and ring finger in lube. I feel panic seize me. “You’re not gonna put both of them, are you?”

“Not at first, of course, but I may after, if it feels good for you, and it’d be terribly inconvenient to have to stop pleasuring you to lube my finger up, right?”

Well, when he puts it like that.

I relax a little bit. I shouldn’t be so scared. I have nothing to be afraid of. Baz has done this to himself multiple times. He knows how it works. He knows how to make it hurt as little as possible. 

“Simon, I’m going to touch you know. Just around, not inside. You’ll tell me when you want me to start pushing inside, okay?”

I nod. That’s a good idea. He won’t go too fast that way. 

“Verbal answers.”

“Yes. Do that.”

“I’m going to,” he smiles, and soon enough, I feel something cold on my buttcrack. His finger, that’s his finger. He’s rubbing it around my hole slowly, teasingly, applying pressure sometimes which makes me hold my breath every time. First, in apprehension. Then, in excitation. 

The moment he does it and the little voice in my head starts begging for more, I know it’s time to ask him to… go further, so to speak. “Baz, you can… please.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask me to speak more eloquently, probably because he doesn’t want to embarrass me.

Though it’s something I want, when I feel his finger starting to push inside me, my whole body tenses. His other hand, that was just resting on my thigh so far, starts stroking it soothingly. “It’s okay, love. I’m taking care of you, you can let go. It won’t feel good if you’re tense. Take deep breaths.”

I do. One, two, three, and then I relax, my body digging in the mattress a bit more. Baz gives me an encouraging smile. “That’s it. I’m going to continue now. It’s going to be unpleasant at first, but please tell me to stop if it hurts too much.”

“Yeah.”

He locks his eyes in mine, and then he keeps pushing inside. He stops at what must be one knuckle. It’s manageable so far, so I nod, and he continues.

Two knuckles. It’s starting to feel weird. Weird, but not bad like it did when I tried. I suppose that the change in angle, and the fact that it’s not my hand doing the work helps. 

“Go on,” I say after a few seconds.

Once his finger is as deep as it will get, he starts twisting it slowly, even hooking it slightly, until… “Holy shit,” I gasp, when pleasure courses through me.

“Found it,” he says proudly, a smirk on his face.

“That’s… that was my prostate, right?” I ask as he moves his finger in and out of me.

“Yes. Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

A smile spreads on my lips. “Yeah, it does. Please do it again.”

And he does. And he does. And he does, until he has two fingers inside me and I’m gripping the sheets, his name the only word I can remember.

**…**

**I feel cold, but not the good kind of cold.** Not the cold of Baz’s skin. 

Fuck, already? The sun has barely set, bloody hell!

I give Baz a scared look, and his eyes tell me that he’s feeling it too. The cold. I hope he’s not feeling the pull too. I don’t want him to go with me.

When the pull gets too strong, I whisper “I love you.”, just in case I’m going alone. 

Please let me go alone.

I close my eyes, and when I open them again, I’m in a forest… Baz standing next to me. 

Fuck that! 

His hand is gripping mine the moment he realizes we’re together, and he says under his breath “It’s the forest near my house.”

So he _was_ right, the Humdrum would attack somewhere close to his place. That means that if I fail, that if I let him do what he wants, he’ll steal the magic. _Their_ magic. Baz’s family’s magic. He’ll chase them from their home, because no mages want to live in a place where they can’t use magic.

I can’t let that happen. I have to do it. I have to succeed. The Grimms don’t deserve to lose their home, even though I’m sure they have other houses, a home is a home, and this place is theirs.

“Where are you hiding?” I ask, trying to sound as confident as I feel scared. “I know you’re here, you brought us here. So show yourself.”

I hear him giggle, a sweet, high pitched sound that shouldn’t make my skin crawl.

“Simon, I missed you,” he says as he appears in front of us, startling me.

Baz’s hand holds mine a bit tighter when his eyes fall on _him_. The Humdrum, who looks like a young version of me, throwing and catching this stupid red ball I used to carry everywhere.

I was so excited about that ball. It was a toy that was _mine_. I never had anything that was mine before.

I take some time to look at him. _Really_ look at him. The last time, with Penny, I only saw him.

He wears a ratty shirt and a pair of jeans a bit too big for him, the same clothes I wore on the day the Mage came for me. He’s the Simon from before Watford, the Simon who didn’t know Baz, or Penny, or _magic._

_Then why does he crave it?_

“Because you have it and I don’t,” he answers in a matter-of-fact voice. Fuck, can he hear my thoughts? “It’s unfair. Why do you get to have magic and I don’t?” 

He walks towards us, and I instinctively throw the arm that Baz is holding behind myself, so that Baz also moves behind me a little, a foolish attempt to protect him, when really, I don’t know what I could do to actually protect him if the Humdrum tried to attack him. It terrifies me.

The Humdrum stops a few feet away from us, looking up at me with plaintive blue eyes. “Why do you get to go to a magic school, and make friends, and have a boyfriend and all I get is… nothing. Why, Simon!” he shouts, giving me an angry look, like it’s my fault, whatever happened to him.

Is it my fault? 

No. 

It’s the Mage’s.

The Mage made me like this, and it’s the fact that I’m like that that caused the Humdrum to be created.

“Listen, little one,” I say, because even if I know deep in my core that he’s a threat, the greatest threat to the World of Mages, right now he just looks like a hurt, lost child. I know how it feels. I’ve been there. Back when I still only wore clothes too big for me and my only possession was a red ball. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why it’s like that. I don’t know why I was lucky enough to have those wonderful things and you were not. I agree with you, it’s unfair. You deserved just as many good things as I did. I didn’t ask for that, either. My magic. I didn’t ask to have it, and I didn’t ask for it to be the way it is.”

“But you still have it, and I don’t!” he exclaims, throwing the ball hard on the ground. It bounces away, until it’s not in sight anymore. 

“You can have it,” I tell him as I get down on my knees not to be so tall compared to him anymore. Baz follows, still as silent as he’s been since the Humdrum arrived. “I can give it to you, if that’s what you want. If it’ll make you stop. Will you stop?”

He looks at me curiously, so I reach out with my free hand. It’s glowing with magic. I can feel it tingling at my fingers, wanting to go. It’s the same on the hand Baz is holding, so I release some magic from that hand. He doesn’t flinch when my magic starts flowing inside him. Good. 

“Will you stop?” I ask the Humdrum again as I see that his hand is almost on mine.

“Yes.”

“Then take it.”

And he does. And he does. And he does, until I can’t feel a single bit of it inside me, except for the magic I can feel on Baz’s fingers.

And yet, the Humdrum is still here, and he looks angrier than he was before I gave it to him. How is that possible! I did what he wanted, he looked happy when I was pouring my magic in him!

“More,” he says, his voice cold.

“What do you want more! I gave you everything!”

“No you didn’t. You gave it to the vampire.”

I feel Baz tense behind me, even more when…

“No!” 

The Humdrum lit a fire in his hand. Of course, he’s got my magic, I suppose that’s something he can do. 

“Don’t hurt him!” I shout, my heart hurting in my chest from how fast it beats. 

All I can think of are the ashes on the floor of Emmeline Hale’s house, this pile of ashes she became when the Mage made her go up in flames. I feel sick thinking about Baz…

I call back all of the magic I pushed inside him, and then I’m practically jumping on the Humdrum, putting my hands on his shoulders. 

I distantly hear Baz scream “Simon, no!” as I let the rest of my magic flow out of my body and inside the Humdrum’s.

He has a grateful smile on his lips when he starts to fade away.

My hands are still in the same position as they were on his shoulders when this terrible feeling of hollowness seizes me.

“It’s all gone.”

That’s the last thing I say before I black out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY OKAY
> 
> Simon couldn’t NOT lose his magic  
> I’d have had to stop the series here if he did, that’d be boring ;)
> 
> A little something about the last scene with the Humdrum. You might feel like it’s rushed ; that’s the point. I wanted to show that Simon just acts and barely has time to think, so I rushed the narration as well as the action. It’s not because I was running out of words, because that scene is the second I’ve written for this chapter, after the very first one. The rest (the whole horny part, basicaly😂) was just written to fill the number of words I needed for the word count of this story to be 66,666 because I thought that was funny 
> 
> If it can give you any indication, the next part is entitled “A study in loss”, I hope you guys will still be supporting me there ^^ it means the word to read your comments, to interact with you, it really motivates me.  
> I should be able to start posting that part tomorrow, since I’ve been keeping my “a chapter a day” rhythm so far, but I might take a day without writing, I’m not sure yet


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